


It’s The Little Things That Drive You To Madness

by KaosKe



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Humor, Blood and Injury, Dragon Fights!!, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I bit AU-y, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Spoilers- you should finish the game, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Use of some in game dialogues, Violence, just sayin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaosKe/pseuds/KaosKe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nyxx looked at the horned giant then the tankard. Finally, with a whimper she took a gulp; when she moved to pull the cup away Bull tilted it up just a little bit more ‘encouraging’ her to continue.</p><p>Her mouth and throat ceased to exist. She choked and sputtered as her tongue turned to ash. Spasming in its death throes, her throat closed and constricted in a vengeful attempt to take her with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Talking To Myself

“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once!’ She said.” The trembling elf called as she ran out. So fast did the servant run, Nyxx had to fight the urge to look down at herself. Briefly worried she’d somehow turned into the Dread Wolf himself. The logical voice of Mahanon, the clan’s First, admonished her for this flippant, ridiculous thought.

She scoffed back automatically, “Stranger shit has happened in the past week. Besides,” she reasoned, “the way things are going; it really can’t be all that _ridiculous_.” Then her heart clenched remembering, she couldn’t argue with him like before. She shook her head at this. Damn, she was fucked if this was the best she could do to cope.

The mark on her hand glowed, grabbing her attention. She had sealed the breach, but the Shems would likely still wish to see her condemned. They would see her ears and forget everything, except the death of their Divine. _“So, does it really matter if you are losing your mind, Nixie?”_ Mahanon’s voice teased.

Yep, she was doomed. With a sigh she moved to dress. Though she had not known the Seeker long, Nyxx was sure she should go and seek the woman out before she came to check on her. She paused and giggled, she was going to _seek out_ , the Seeker. Bending to focus on her boots, wondering why they would leave them on her while she slept. The elf studiously ignored the hint of hysteria the little giggle revealed.

Finally ready, slinging the door wide, a saluting soldier greets her. Her eyes sweep past him to the people hanging about in clusters. Their tasks and duties forgotten in their efforts to see the Dalish elf that had saved them. They bow their heads as she passes, diligently avoiding her gaze. More saluting soldiers, as she walks to the Chantry, more hastily bent heads.

She would ride this mess out, she would walk the path fate had paved for her. In that moment she refused to shrink, she was Dalish!! She was Proud!! _She_ had saved their asses!! She would not let them see _anything_ else!! They would _not_ see the madness…

The sky was still that sickly green, the breach still hung there, above the ruined temple. A diseased wound; a promise that the sickness within would spread through the world if left unchecked. She sighed, so they might not burn her…

 _“Yet,”_ his voice joked, echoing in her head.

She smiled grimly, and spoke to that familiar voice. “I want to see them try.” Whatever the case, whoever was responsible for sitting her down in the middle of this shit storm (whether god or man) she was going to punch them. In the throat, _really_ hard.

 _“That’s my Nixie,”_ he chuckled in her ear.

What did she care, she was already going mad…


	2. Mental Meanderings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyxx has been with the Inquisition for a few months now, kicking ass and trying to charm her inner peeps into not hating her, while she satisfies her nosy nature… 
> 
> Hopefully give you a sense of where I will be starting, with some quick game recap.

The madness didn't bother her… much… It helped that Cassandra and the others believed in her innocence.

Four months had passed since that day. She met with Cassandra and Leliana; they believed her innocent, stood between her and the chancellor’s conviction of her guilt. Then they had announced the return of the Inquisition.

In that time Nyxx had watched and made friends, she hid her true self. She was younger than all of her companions. Well, with exception of Sera. So, the Herald of Andraste hid behind a mask of sheltered curiosity. It was a good act, a Dalish elf ignorant of the humans around her, but willing to learn in the hope that maybe she could somehow help.

It was a defense, a trick she had learned early. When in the midst of beings who could be an enemy, you must work to make them see you as ‘human’. Tell them your name, smile at them honestly and innocently; relate to them and they might not slit your throat... or sell you to slavers… _"or burn you at the stake for being the one person to survive an explosion that leveled a bloody mountain... Right, Nixie?"_ the Mahanon residing in her head quipped.

So far so good...

Besides, there was something about honest curiosity, and the shine of innocent eyes that made people talk. They tell you their opinions on any number of topics because they want to educate that sheltered innocence; give it a taste of the world outside. Varric was an excellent example of a worldly individual willing to teach the new kid ‘the ropes’. Sera was the same, though, she liked to add shock value when passing along her wisdom.

…Solas… was hard, his talk of the Fade and Spirits made her shoulder blades itch, her keeper’s cautions and warnings whispering in her ear. But, she pushed down the wary disapproving Dalish voice and forced herself to be curious with him… to her surprise, it didn't take long for her curiosity to become genuine. The way he spoke of his adventures, the memories. She no longer worked to appear eager about his interests. In truth, she was deeply curious by nature, and this bare faced elf had thoroughly caught hers.

She flirted with them, all of them, it was fun. She would make it sound innocent and oblivious on her part. Responding in a way, which could allow for two meanings, one innocent, the other one downright dirty. She left her targets feeling as if they were the ones with dirty minds; while she stood there blissfully unaware her words could mean something naughty.

Sadly for the Commander, he was her favorite target for this game. She would often leave the man choking and red faced. Sadly for her, she’d had to stop when the man started outright avoiding her.

As she watched and observed the people that were her companions, she grew fond of them. They forgave her when she honestly told them she didn't believe she was the Herald of Andraste. She allowed them their faith but made her doubts on the matter clear. They were all good people who treated her fairly despite the pointy ears and the markings on her face.

Of course she greatly satisfied her curiosity by sitting in on the war council meetings. She had them explain a great many things to her while subtly manipulating their course of action or solving their arguments if tempers flared. She did this by having them each explain why they believed their plan of action was the most appropriate. They would inevitably use the moment to argue the validity to the others. The others would be forced to listen, while Herald learned. She would chime in asking questions like, “Do we have to hurt them? Do we need that kind of influence? Do those people need to know we had a hand in this?” Afterwards the stalemate would end and they would cordially agree on how to proceed.

The human women sent her to the Hinterlands to speak with a Chantry Mother. While there they worked to bring order. Gained a number of supporters and garnered a great deal of influence. Camps had been established, rifts had been closed. They crushed both the rebel Mages and the rogue Templars, cleared out bandits, and nearly been blasted by a dragon. Luckily, she had dove back into the tunnel, at the last moment.

Yeah... she was saving that one for later… way later…

They traveled to Val Royeaux and inexplicably had left again with no bloodshed. Despite meeting with the Chantry, that really tense confrontation with the Templars, and being introduced to Lord ‘Arse Nugget’ (Sera was right it was enjoyable to say) Seeker Lucius. She had even picked up new companions to bolster the Inquisitions power, and were approached by the former (Vivienne likes to stress this word) Grand Enchanter, now leader of the rebel mages, to possibly forge an alliance.

The good fortunes didn't stop there on top of a new mage and a new rogue she had picked up two warriors. A Grey Warden and a Qunari no less, all good things she thought, though not many were happy with the whole Qunari mercenary thing... Except for that one Chantry Sister, “different strokes” as Varric says…

She had been a little homicidal when she went to speak with the mages only to be told they had indentured themselves to Tevinter … Her hackles had been up thanks to that meeting. She shivered, remembering sitting across from Alexius. Her whole being balks at the negotiations she would have to make with the man if she hoped to gain the Mages help. She had been flip-flopping on this for weeks now, and that had been before she knew a Tevinter Magister was going to be involved. They really needed to make a choice soon…


	3. You Don’t Mess With Crazy And You Sure As Hell Don’t Drag It Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She drops the act...

Snow crunched beneath her arm as she eyed the glowing green mark slashed across her palm. Sighing, she needed to get back, if she didn’t show up soon they would likely send a search party. Standing, her hands batted at the snow clinging to her hair and clothes. Nyxx eyed the imprint of her form in the snow. Her boots flattened the white fluff as she turned on her heel and stomped out of her little clearing. She found herself doing that more and more, resting in the snow to think. As the cold seeped in her thoughts seemed to settle and quiet, she could make sense of them. She still spoke to that voice, imagining the conversations they would have if Mahanon were there with her.

He would like these people, once he got to know them, even Sera… She frowned; Solas would probably not make the list. She could see Mahanon’s face, his mouth would thin and his eyes would narrow with disapproval. He would have ushered her away before Solas could finish his first sentence. Then lectured her in private about why the Apostate was mad, and had likely been corrupted by the spirits he so doted upon.

Before she would have listened and agreed; nodding and spouting her own sentiments of disgust. She would have told him he wasn’t telling her anything she did not already know.

Now though, after spending a great deal of time with the invaluable Rift Mage, her opinions had changed, drastically. So when she held those secret conversations with the Mahanon in her head, she defended the elven Apostate. His voice would argue back, called her crazy, dismissed her opinion of the elf. Said she was blinded by her insatiable curiosity and her ever growing infatuation with the lunatic. “Isn’t that the point Mahanon? Why do you seem surprised? When we both know your Nixie is going mad…” she quipped defensively.

As she walked through the gates of Haven her conversation was rudely interrupted by a harsh hand gripping her wrist, “Where have you been?” Cullen barked, glaring daggers as he drags her as discreetly as possible to the Chantry. “You’ve been missing for three days!” he accused.

She stumbled surprised at his treatment, “There were requisitions… for the Quartermaster… I was completing them.” She answered. He had her tucked hard against his side. “…and some small requests… I wished to complete… it was quicker to do them by myself…” she continued. Though, a quick look at his face showed he wasn’t really listening to her explanation. His demeanor was so unexpected; in her surprise she’d allowed him to lead her all way to the war room before it occurred to her to protest his hold.

“Here she is! I found her!” he shouted as they entered the war room. The advisers and her companions were all gathered within. Cullen released her as her inner circle crushed her with angry questions. They glared as if she were a naughty child that had wondered away… And she grew angry in response, clearly she had played the sheltered Dalish role to well… She stood up straight, squaring her shoulders, her eyes glaring in defiance…  She didn’t answer, instead in her rage she picked up a dagger and slammed it into the war map; piercing the word Therinfal…The innocent mask was gone… The voices faltered as she swept them with her gaze…

“We are approaching the Templars.” she did not yell, her voice was cold and hard, brooking no argument. Her eyes fell on her advisers, Josephine in particular, “We talked of this before, work your magic on those noble Orlesian houses you spoke of. Do whatever you need to do to get me an audience with the Lord Seeker.” She turned on her heel to leave; she paused at the door with a sigh. She didn’t turn around as she spoke, “each of you should speak with Harritt… when you get a chance. I had him make some upgrades for your weapons and armors.” They watched as she silently slipped out the door…

 

No one commented on the change in her demeanor…

Cassandra was the first to break the wary silence left in the Heralds wake, looking at the door thoughtfully. “We know what the Lord Seeker thinks. But, we also know that many Templars believe in the Herald. They may change his mind.”

Cullen looked to Cassandra, replying sharply, “With respect, after his appearance in Val Royeaux, hang what the Lord Seeker thinks.”

“We do not need the Lord Seeker. We need his Templars, with or without his approval.” Leliana readily agreed.

Josephine departed, “I know just the Nobles we will need. A few favors and they will be quite happy to help us petition the Templars. I need to start drafting my requests.”

“I will help see to those favors.” Leliana replied. “I also have a few names to add to your list. They will be less than happy, but they will join us.” She shrugged, trailing Josephine to her office, as the others followed behind.


	4. Dancing To Forget The Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyxx gets her knives... And the Dread Wolf catches her scent...

She lunged, her blades slashing. They glittered in the light of the setting sun, she swiped her right blade, as she stabbed low and up with her left, striking as fast as a snake. The sharp metal cut at the cloth and wood of the training dummy. The daggers sang in her ears, “snicker-snack” they chanted sweetly, the hollow thuds of the wood a rhythmic bass thumping out the pattern of her heart. She loved her blades; the music they created made her dance all the more beautiful. She pounded out her routine a mantra made physical. In this way she calmed the rage that had blossomed in her chest. Sweat ran down her back as the familiar motions centered her, chased away the thoughts that crowded her mind.

A few of her companions had gone looking for her. They watched dumbfounded, “When in the hell did her elfy-ness learn to do that?” Sera snapped. “I thought she only knew how to use a bow."

“She kept it secret,” Bull replied, “Probably trying to put everyone at ease with that sheltered maiden crap. Didn't believe it for a second, not with that look in her eyes.”

“She lied to us!” Sera argued back.

“She woke up one day, a Dalish elf, in _shackles_ , surrounded by a bunch of humans. Then suddenly those _same_ humans, who had been howling for her blood only days before, started calling her their Herald. While the Chantry still wanted her head… Can you blame her for being cautious?” Varric reasoned with a shrug.

“…Yea well, I guess when you put’it like that… I guess I wouldn't want to show I could slice and dice a man to itty bits… though I woulda just run, yea…” Sera acknowledged.

“She’ll be fine. Who wants to get a drink?” Bull called over his shoulder.

Standing in the shadows, he ignored the others, watching as she threw herself into her deadly dance. He was mesmerized by her skill; the precise vicious movements seemed to bring a wild smile to her lips. He had thought he knew all there was to know about her. He had seen a surprisingly sweet, inquisitive (perhaps the most surprising thing) Dalish woman, who was eager to help, and skilled with a bow. Solas had found her endearing, despite her overly eager personality. He would never have believed her to be so proficient with knives. “Or so skilled a deceiver.” The wolf in him growled.

But, after her outburst in the war room and the aggressive way she moved as she destroyed the practice dummy, he had to admit he didn't know this woman at all. Clearly she was a cunning little thing; he was markedly annoyed with himself for not seeing her trickery.

He had been insulted, ignored, and called insane so often that he thought he would go mad from the frustration… you can only be called crazy so many times before you start to believe it… 

She had listened to him earnestly. He had come to enjoy having someone who did not tell him he was a lunatic for making friends with spirits. She had smiled that encouraging smile, eyes dancing with awe. She’d marveled at the clever way he navigated the Fade. It had been nice not seeing yet another disgusted scowl when she looked at him… She had played to his ego, “was it no wonder he had allowed himself to be deceived…” he snarled.

With a final slash and dodge she came to a panting halt. Her arms shook with exhaustion, the sun had long since disappeared leaving the soft glow of the moon as her only light. Eyeing her panting silhouette the Rift Mage left ahead of her. He would see how the little trickster responded when standing toe to toe with the Dread Wolf…

Hot skin steaming in the night air, she trudged the path to her hut. She looked up as he shuffled his feet. Solas stood outside her door, waiting. “I would like a word with you Herald.” He explained frostily, answering the silent question posed by her raised eyebrow.

She eyed him narrowly, allowing him to see the clever Dalish hunter she was. He truly didn't know this woman. With a sigh she gestured to her door “After you, _hahren_ ,” She replied respectfully. He was strangely relieved by the brief spark of curiosity in her eyes… Maybe he hadn't been _completely_ deceived…


	5. Madness Tempts The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep be damned!! Let the games begin…

He moved into the interior of the house ahead of her. She leaned against her door warily; sleep was going to be blissful and easy tonight. A shiver quaked through her as the cold finally infiltrated her sweat drenched clothes. Moving further into the room she grabbed the hem of her damp shirt and worked it off her body, it clung to her skin. A hard tug and she was free. “So, what were you wanting to have a wor-“

“ _Da’len_!” Solas barked in choked shock as he turned to face her, only to quickly whirl around, refusing to look at her.

Her head shot up at his tone as her shirt slapped to the floor wetly, she looked at the man confused. “What?” she jumped looking about for trouble.

“Your clothes…” he swallowed audibly. “You are undressing in front of me.” He stated hotly.

Her voice dripping with sarcasm, she replied, “Oh, so I am. Thank you, _Hahren_ , I hadn’t noticed.” She mimicked his shocked tone.

Rolling her eyes, she continued, “I’ve changed in front of a man before…” she walked to the basin of water and quickly scrubbed off the sweat. “Hell, I’ve _bathed_ in front of a number of men, on multiple occasions… every other day in fact... Ponds, lakes, and streams aren’t exactly private domain in a Dalish clan…” She looked over her shoulder his hands were clinched, his back rigid. He shook his head but said nothing. “Really, I’m not even naked, my breasts are covered, and my breeches are still on.”

“Besides I need to change. Surely you do not expect me to stay in these wet clothes while we ‘have a word.’ (she mocked his earlier tone) Keep your back turned then, I will be quick,” she sighed.

She wiggled out of her wet clinging pants; it took longer than she planned, with more undignified hopping than she cared to admit to. Just as she freed herself from the damned things Solas spoke.

“I will come back later, _da’len_ , when you are dressed.” His voice came out sharp and reproving, putting emphasis on _da’len_. He began to make his way around the perimeter of the room without looking. He stumbled over a chair with a curse. “ _Fenedhis lasa!_ Go play your games with the Commander! I will not tolerate such antics!” he growled.

“I’m not playing any games,” She denied defensively.

Secretly though, she had to admit she was very amused. His offended modesty was up there with Cullen’s red faced choking. “I’m almost done. I swear!” Nyxx bit her lip to stifle her laughter, when he gave a dignified snort in disbelief. Lightening quick, she washed her legs, changed her smalls, and slipped into fresh clothes.

Before he could complete his fumbling attempts at escape she grabbed his wrist, tugging him around. “See? All done!” She was enjoying herself too much to just let him go…

~*~*~

He scowled at her hand, then her face, trying to hold onto a quickly disintegrating cloak of disapproval. The image of her taught nipples pressing against the cloth of her chest bindings slithered through his thoughts. The cloak slipped in his sweat soaked hands, he clenched them tighter.

Caught by surprise his mind had stuttered trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He’d recovered, but the damage had been done. The image of her removing her shirt flipped threw his mind in slow motion, lust slammed into him. He had called her _da’len_ in an effort to distance himself from the arousal she inspired. Reminding him she was something to be kept out of reach. He needed to leave before this got anymore out of hand. He tried to calm himself. A hard thing to do with that glint of mischief in her eyes.

“No, I will speak with you another time. I do not care to encourage the mischief you are planning.” He said stiffly, jerking his arm from her grip. He left before she could form a reply.

Well, now he knew how she would react to the Dread Wolf clawing at her door… Apparently, she responded by getting naked and provoking it with a stick… a tempting, naked, sweat slickened stick…


	6. Ardor Hounds the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyxx gets further into Solas' head...

 

Still staring at the door Nyxx let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. Damn, this new prey was much faster than the Commander. But she had seen the look he had quickly hid; it had called to its mate in her. Then he was gone and her want still roamed through her, restless.

 _"Wonderful, Nixie. Just, wonderful! Your infatuation was bad enough! Now you’re lusting after that lunatic?! You really have gone mad!”_ Mahanon ranted in her head. _“He called you out on your game, ‘besides I need to change. Surely you do not expect me to stay in these wet clothes…’”_ Mahanon mimicked her voice, making it sound more seductive than it had. _“Not playing games?! Really, he saw through you like a window without glass! Nixie, the elf is at least a decade older than you! I really don’t want to be around when that goes down-”_

 She sighed in disgust. Sleep was not going to be the easy thing she’d hoped for.

 ~*~*~

 

The wolf in him rumbled darkly at his cowardice. Urging him to go back and call her bluff, to teach her a lesson about playing with the beast at her door. Had he not gone to confront her about her duplicity? Where was the outrage he had just felt at being outwitted? And there she was outmaneuvering him yet again! She had stood before him, and teased him until he was forced to turn tail and flee!

“... You mean before you devoured the tempting morsel…” the beast growled. Solas shook his head, shoving that thought back into the beast’s cage.

 All because she showed a little flesh, her words echoed in his head. “Really, I’m not even naked.”

That was probably the worst part! He scrubbed his hands over his scalp harshly. He had reacted like a nervous lad and he’d not even seen all her… assets.

The image of her hopping around as she wiggled out of her leggings flashed to mind… It would have been humorous if her hips and bottom had not moved so temptingly and her torso hadn't stretched just right. Foolishly, he had glanced back to see if she was being truthful.

He had swallowed hard and tried to bolt. He flushed in angry embarrassment remembering his clumsy progression about the room. Disgust at himself warred with the wolf’s hunger in his chest. Needless to say he would not be confronting her in her own territory again. He didn't think either of them would walk away unscathed a second time.

 ~*~*~

 

The next morning awoke her with a hesitant knock on her door. Solas had likely returned, he probably believed the light of day and the clamor of an awakened Haven would keep her tricks tame. To her great disappointment the Commander stood before her, his shoulders tensing as she observed him.

“We have sent word to the Nobles. It will likely take a few days for them to reply, and more time still for them to organize.” Cullen reported every bit the soldier. “Lady Montilyet, would like to go over the details of that with you. Also, there are some other matters that require our attention. We would like to discuss them with you, in the war room.” He scrutinized her as he spoke.

“Would you mind if I came in? I wish to speak in private, about another topic.” The soldier seemed to falter in this request.

Damn she was popular with the gentlemen all of a sudden! Amazing the attention a fit of anger could get a girl. As she stepped back to let the man enter, she wondered if Varric, Bull, and Blackwall would be making an appearance in order to speak with her as well. And if they all visited her hut to do so it would be a record!

 _“And everyone would think the Herald of Andraste was getting her cork popped by all the men in her inner circle!! Great record there, Nixie,”_ Mahanon’s voice chirped dryly in her head. She shoved the mocking voice in a box at the back of her head, mentally yelling at him “Shut it!! I've had all the lip out of you I can stand. I’m DONE talking to YOU!”

“Herald?” Cullen’s voice questioned, snapping her attention back to his presence.

“Sorry, Commander. What did you need?”  She hastily recovered.

“Ah, I wished to- apologize for my rough treatment of you yesterday. When Leliana’s scouts found no sign of you. I was-” He paused, corrected himself. “WE were all worried at your disappearance. You left no word- I should not- I spoke to you more harshly than I had intended-”

“I’m sorry.” He finished sincerely.

“I’m sorry too. I had not considered my actions would worry- everyone. I will let everyone know before I leave in the future.” She conceded, while making sure he knew she would continue to do as she pleased. She narrowed her eyes when he looked as though he would protest her leaving un-escorted again.

A heartbeat later he nodded in acquiescence as he turned to leave. “Summon us to the war room when you are ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so thanks for the Kudo's! Cutekhaos thanks for the comments!! It is because of those comments that I would like to ask for more... comments... so give me your thoughts and please be gentle.  
> I didn't realize how nerve wracking putting my stuff up would be!! Thanks again!!!


	7. Reasoning with Madness

More than a week had past since her outburst in the war room, when she was roused from her bed with a pounding at her door.

“Herald there’s an emergency! You are needed in the war room, quickly.” The voice belonged to one of Leliana’s scouts.

A matter of minutes and she was dressed and racing to the stone behemoth at the back of the camp. She skidded to a halt in front of the large table, Leliana and Cullen speaking distractedly. The Commander had clearly been dragged from his own chambers he was disheveled, his face scruffy with stubble. Leliana was as put together as always looking grim but well rested.

“What’s the matter? What’s happened?” She called.

“I just received word of the soldiers that went missing.” Leliana informed her. “Our soldiers have been found in a bog called the Fallow Mire.”

She located the area in question on the map. “Ok, what happened? How badly are the injured,” Nyxx asked. She thought the men and women would be heading back now that they’d been found.

“We don’t know about their injuries,” Cullen admitted.

“They are being held hostage by Avvar who demand to meet the Herald of Andraste if the Inquisition wishes to see its people alive again.” Leliana cut in, stating the problem Cullen had been reluctant to give voice.

“We can’t have her running off into those swamps. She’s supposed to be at Therinfal Redoubt in two weeks, and there is no telling how long this rescue mission will take!” The Commander cut Leliana a dirty look, “Leliana, your people can surly get our soldiers out. We don’t need to send the Herald,” Cullen argued.

Nyxx snapped, “No, I will go. I will not hide behind Haven’s gates while some mad man holds our soldiers and challenges me directly.”

Leliana nodded pleased, “Very good. The Inquisition is still young, but we need to show we will not allow such provocations to go un-answered.”

Cullen shook his head angrily, “Which companions should I rouse to join you?” Smart man, he knew he would not sway their minds in this matter.

“Cassandra, Solas, and Varric.” She called over her shoulder. “I’ll meet them at the gate in 20 minutes, tell them to pack light. We will be moving fast. We need to get our men as quickly as possible if I hope to meet up with the nobles in a fortnight.” Cullen and Leliana trailed behind her listening. “We will be cutting this close, have The Iron Bull and Blackwall on stand by just in case I need to head straight to Therinfal from the Fallow Mire. If this takes longer than that, the nobles will just have to cool their heels and wait.” She paused frowning, “Let Josephine know that I might be delayed and to be ready to deal with the complaints.”

Twenty minutes later her companions joined her at the gate, moonlight circling them, lighting their path. They raced against time…

~*~*~

 

Solas kept finding himself off balance. Every time he thought he had a hold of Nyxx’s character she tripped him up. He had expected more teasing from her, but the preparations for dealing with the nobles and then this latest emergency seemed to keep her attentions too busy to harass him.

He also suspected she had been avoiding her companions. Varric, Bull, and Sera had not allowed her the chance to stay away from them. Varric would inevitably defend her saying she probably didn’t know how to approach them after her blowup in the war room.

Whatever her faults she was clearly loyal. The fact that she had hurried them to the Fallow Mire in the dead of night to save a handful of their soldiers was proof of that. She had no problem with the possibility that the detour might leave the nobles waiting, if their attempt to free the soldiers took longer than planned.

That alone was enough to make Cassandra forgive her. The push through the Mire solidified it even more so. He was grudgingly coming around. She had cut through the undead with a grim determination. They couldn’t deny that this knife wielding shade was an effective weapon.  

The undead had him surrounded, his barrier flickering in and out. The bloated putrid bodies advanced, the space shrank around him forcing him into physically hitting them with his staff in an effort to push them back. His mana stores were depleted and he didn’t dare pause to reach for the lyrium bottle at his hip. A body pressed against his back, he tensed waiting for the blow. Nyxx’s shouted at his back, her blades clanged as she blocked a creature’s sword, “keep hitting them, and no matter what don’t pause.” She moved at his back pressing the undead away. She deftly moved to his front avoiding his staff, she danced around him, expertly staying just a step ahead of his movements. In this way she pushed the dead back, allowing him time to gulp down the blue liquid. He had tugged at the fade, devising a way to unleash the magic without hitting her, when suddenly she was pressed against him again, inside his newly cast barrier.

“Light’em up,” She’d panted harshly in his ear. Her husky command stirred the beast, as he scorched the ground outside his shields. Damn the woman, but he forgave her as well.

~*~*~

  

They had ran through the Fallow Mire as quickly as they could, forging as direct a route as possible, the undead had slowed them down. But, she had made it to the strong hold and had her show down with the Avvar bastard. The soldiers were even now making their way back to Haven.

Thanks to the delay caused by slogging through the muck and the dead she would not be heading back to Haven. She had sent word days before requesting Bull and Blackwall to meet her en route. Varric and Cassandra would head back while she and Solas continued on to Therinfal. She knew she should probably send Solas back as well. But, she _really_ didn’t want to deal with Vivienne’s smug attitude and the Orlesian nobles at the same time. It was bad enough the woman thought Nyxx sought out the Templars thanks to her advice. She wasn’t about to listen to Vivienne boast of having the Herald’s ear to every noble she happened to pass; and because Therinfal was going to be lousy with the upper crust, Nyxx _knew_ it would get real old, real fast…

 _"Yes, Nixie,_ that’s _why you keep the Apostate with you! It has nothing what so ever to do with your foolish infatuation.”_ Mahanon replied drolly. She shook her head disgustedly.

She didn’t answer or acknowledge the voice. After its constant lambasting all through the night weeks ago she had refused to speak to it. They were officially on the outs. Sadly, that didn’t seem to stop him from popping in to berate her every now and then.

Camp was in site, the bright fire beckoning them in welcome, Bull's horned silhouette casting shadows against the stones that backed the camp. Bull and Blackwall had moved fast, she sighed in relief, one less worry on her shoulders. Bull called a greeting as they came more into view.

“So… question for you Herald.” Varric called from the back of their trudging group, interrupting her musings… the mud of the mire squashing with each miserable step they took…

 “Fire away,” she called looking over her shoulder, and then after a slight pause. “The question that is, not Bianca…” she grinned, clearly proud of her pun, as she waggled her eyebrows…

Cassandra snorted.

While Varric chuckled giving her the approving nod she was silently asking for… 

“Why did you use a bow when you were so clearly born with daggers in your hands?” he continued as they settled around the fire.

Everyone’s attention turned to her, their curiosity peeked.

“At first it was because it was the first thing that came to hand when we left Haven, and despite all the carnage we passed while making our way to the Breach, no sharp point-ies fell into my lap.” She said with a shrug.

“Yeah, but what made you continue to use a bow?” Varric pressed.

“Writing another book?” she asked evasively. Ignoring the purr of pleasure she got from having a book written about her.

“Notes really, I’ve got a character concept brewing and I want to flesh out the reasoning behind the actions.” Varric replied, the writer in him coming out.

“Oh, well that was due to me wanting to ‘feel’ out the situation …and the people… ” she looked at Cassandra. “I walked into the Chantry that day completely believing I was going to be clapped in irons again, and dragged to my judgment… I couldn’t believe I was not going to be persecuted… and even when it didn’t come… I couldn’t believe I was safe among allies…” she looked away at this.

“Humans don’t think twice about purging a clan or an alienage… or selling an Elf into slavery… I worked to get to know you all… so I stowed away my occasionally surly demeanor and my knives…” she continued.

“So that confused ditsy look was to get to know people?” Varric scoffed.

She bit her lip, “It worked didn’t it-” she paused when Bull made a noise. “With the exception of Bull apparently.”

“You had me for a moment but there were times- No offense but I think by the time I came along your act was starting to crumble.” Bull replied with a shrug. He laughed at the offended look she gave him, “Ah, don’t beat yourself up to badly. I’m trained to see the chinks in a person’s armor, whether physical or mental.”

“There weren’t supposed to be any chinks for you to see. So, you’ll have to excuse me while I ‘beat myself up’ about it,” she shook her head frowning.

“Hey, personally I think everyone was wearing you down, and you couldn’t help but drop the act.” Bull soothed.

She smiled ruefully at the horned man, then continued, “The confused ditsy look worked, for the most part,” she pauses, shooting a slanted look at Bull. “I could see who each of you were while wearing that face. You can see a person’s true character when they speak to a gullible inoffensive individual. You can see if they are caring or cruel; will they try to protect or will they work to manipulate. Their personalities, their values, can’t help but surface…”

“What does using a bow or knives have to do with such a thing?” Cassandra cut in.

Nyxx smiled “Bows and arrows are innocent-“

“Wait? What? Arrows are dangerous instruments of death!” Varric interrupted offended. “Just look at Bianca! This beauty is a lot of thing but she sure isn’t innocent.” He patted Bianca reassuringly.

“That’s why I said _bows_ … I apologize I meant no offense to Mistress Bianca… Anyone who sees her would know she’s a dangerous lady…” Nyxx was smiling toothily as she soothed Varric’s and Bianca’s injured pride.

“But no, back to what I was saying… Bows are deadly things, they take skill, they take focus, and they can do plenty of damage… But, the person holding the bow… they could have that skill, that focus, simply because they are a hunter… the hunter uses the bow to put food on the table… in this way the hunter has the skill to kill a man… but may never have needed to use that skill to kill another person…” She lectured.

“Knives on the other hand… Or I should say the knife wielder has a completely different mindset… You don’t learn to use knives the way I do with the intention of putting food on the table… you can’t have an air of virtuousness and brandish a weapon as aggressive, as intimate as a blade…” She shifted her attention to Cassandra, “Would you have seen me as gullible and harmless after watching me slit a man’s throat with the stealth of a shadow?”

Bull and Blackwall had nodded along as she explained. Her eyes cut to Solas trying to see his reaction. He sat their listening intently, a stern scowl etched across his face.

“This is some good stuff, and it makes sense.” Varric approved.  Cassandra was frowning as well, her displeasure at the manipulation self evident despite her earlier questions.

“You may not believe me. But, now that I know you, I am sorry for the deception. I’m sorry for assuming you would treat me as a ‘knife-ear’ and cause me harm. More importantly I’m sorry if my actions have hurt you…” Nyxx expressed her regret to Cassandra.

“Yes well, I can see how you would feel such actions were necessary. Also, I cannot judge you too harshly for making assumptions, when I myself am guilty of doing the same...” Cassandra replied, coughing to hide her pleased tone…  

“Well, now that everybody’s happy, how about a game of Wicked Grace? I want to see what kind of tails our new Herald has…” Varric challenged. Bull and Blackwall were game. Varric laughed as Cassandra groaned in protest. While Nyxx tried to claim she was too tired.

“Hey, throw me a bone, this is how I get to know people,” The women eventually agreed but only after Solas, to their surprise, offered to join them.

By the time they were ready for bed Nyxx and Solas were a lot richer and had grudgingly agreed to end the game when it became clear they were evenly matched. Cassandra had long since folded clearly smarter than the overconfident Dwarf… Blackwall had only played a few hands when he started talking about buckets and bits after losing for the third time. Bull had fared well enough and went to his tent quiet happily. While, Varric walked to his tent muttering to himself about royalty checks and damned elves…


	8. Mourning the Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sucker punch revelations... maybe...

She walked through the hazy green cavern; the smell of burning flesh assaulted her nose. She headed towards the soft glow in the distance; dread filling her as twisted shapes came into view. The source of the smell became all too apparent, she skirted around the flaming bodies gruesomely jutting out of the ground acting as grim lanterns lighting her path.

Two hazy silhouettes solidify into the Commander and Josephine as she draws nearer to them. A sound, a gasp, she surges from her sleep as she watches Leliana, then, herself run a blade across Cullen’s throat. The memory of the demon’s taunting voice echoes in her head as she tries to assure herself that the demon is dead and Therinfal is far behind them. Roughly she shoves her hands through her hair tugging hard enough to cause pain. She went over the events in her head.

Cole had saved her, helped her navigate Envy’s maze. He had seemed familiar to her; as he explained in that topsy-turvy room she knew this young man would see her to safety. She remembered him coxing her on ‘a little further, almost there, keep going up.’ He had chanted.

She also remembered, with a flinch, the terror she’d felt when he said they were in her head. She had looked about half expecting Mahanon to appear. Somehow that had almost seemed worse than the demon sharing her skull space, that someone else would see she wasn't the only one in her head.

She about lost herself to hysterics realizing just how many entities were crowding into her mind. Cole’s calm voice had soothed her then. “He will not appear, he is not here, he never was,” Cole reasoned. She had looked at him in horror, “It’s okay, you can let him go, it was not your fault. It’s just you giving guilt a voice.” Cole explained.

Great! Just great she had thought to herself, the kid could read minds, _lovely_. There had been a rumble from the demon that shook her mind. It helped her to focus on the situation, on Cole.

Nyxx remembered more of their conversations, she had asked if she could get out the way he got in; he had replied that they could, but hastily explained she would likely die if she were to do so. She had quickly followed the statement asking how to evict everyone else. She had giggled a little at this when her words sank in. What she wouldn’t give to evict the madness that had dogged her these last few months. She shook her head pushing it all from her mind. She had the Templars as her allies, and the breach would be closed, there goal was in sight. That would have to sustain her.

~*~*~

 

He couldn’t begin to guess how the woman did it; he had watched her charm Lord Abernache so completely the noble had been compelled to complement her skill. How she had managed to hold her tongue after his idiotic comparison to the ‘second dispersal of the reclaimed Dales,’ Solas didn’t know. He had caught how her shoulders had stiffened, but she smiled and spoke sweet honeyed words. The events had quickly gone downhill from there… The corrupted Templars had been unexpected and disheartening. He shook his head marveling at how bad things seemed to be escalating. He remembered the pause after the fake Lucius had grabbed her. In that moment she had been trapped in her mind with the demon. But, no sooner did this happen before the demon revealed its gruesome form, and darted into the great hall behind its barriers.

Cole had protected her as she escaped Envy’s scheming, and again it protected her as they fought the demon in reality. He had been surprised when the spirit joined them in their battle. He had only half listened when she had questioned Sir Barris. However, he had become quite interested as she asked about the young man, Cole, who had just been with her. His suspicions had been confirmed when, as they had searched for the Templar veterans, she would stare at nothing as if seeing something, someone. He knew now it had been Cole leading her.

“There is no way in hell you can know all of me! Not when I hardly know all of myself!” He remembered the words she had snarled at the demon in their final battle as it taunted her.

He eyed her across the campfire laughing with Blackwall and Bull. Her black tresses were in a messy braid that trailed to one side, tied in a knot just behind her right ear. Her honey colored eyes glinted warmly in the light, as she laughed gaily at Bull’s words.

He had heard her restless sleep the night before; had heard the way she called the Commander’s name in a panicked gasp.

The beast had snarled then, angry that she was dreaming of the human. Even now the beast paced in his chest restless that those sweet pools of light were shining on someone else.

“Lavellan? What were you doing at the conclave? You mentioned before that you had come with your clan’s first. That the Keeper had wanted you to experience more of the human’s culture. While, your First observed the meetings.”  He spoke in the silence that followed, catching her attention, the wolf hummed with pleasure. “I’ve been wondering, the way you handled Lord Abernache, you weren’t at the Conclave just to study the culture. What did the keeper hope to gain by sending two spies?”

She looked startled; some emotion flickered through her eyes, sadness maybe. He thought she was trying to decide how much to tell of her keeper’s plans.

“I was there to spy,” she admitted, “but also to protect our First. Keeper Dashana had only intended for Mahanon to make the trip, but I couldn’t stay behind while our First walked into a temple filled with Mage hating Templars.” She paused biting her lip, her gaze far off. “I couldn’t let my mate walk into that pit of vipers without me there to guard his back.” She swallowed, gauging his reaction as her words sank in. He froze, her words a punch to the gut, making him breathless.

~*~*~

Bull covered Solas’ silence with a low whistle, “So, you and this guy, you’re First. Were lovers? And he died in the explosion at the conclave,” He asked.

“He was my mate; we were Bonded- the elven equivalent of marriage.” She clarified, focusing her attention solely on Bull, trying to explain the significance of the relationship.

Bull and Blackwall grew just as silent and still as Solas, their eyes watched her sympathetically. They tried to relay their condolences. She shook her head at them, guilt flooded her. She did not deserve their compassion; she wasn’t mourning some great lost love. She retired to her tent without a word.

She and Mahanon had not been a love match. The two of them had been pressured into the relationship by the elders. There had only been a handful of females born in her generation and the men had outnumbered the women. Thanks to this she had been the last single female. Throw in the fact she was the great granddaughter of the previous keeper, and her mother had been the First before Mahanon. Needless to say her bloodline was respected if not valued for its potential to produce mages, and the clan ~~wanted~~ needed new offspring.

They had been close friends ever sense he’d been given to the Clan at the age of 12. She had been 11 and still grieving the death of her mother. Even at that age she had shown no magical talent what so ever. It became clear that the clan needed a mage to be raised up as the First. They had gained a young and extremely gifted one in Mahanon.

While all the other females were being paired off she had balked, steering clear of the single men who approached her. Except for Mahanon, he kept the others at bay and she used him as a shield against the constant matchmaking attempts. Until the Elders grew impatient with them, Keeper Dashana had approached them her face a mask of determination.

Her words had been hard as steel, “Now that you are of age lethallan, the two of you will be bonded. The clan recognizes your partnership; the match would do much to strengthen our clan.”

They could not ignore the will of the clan any longer. She and Mahanon had bowed to the clans wishes, they had a duty to perform and that was to strengthen the blood of their people, to produce the next generation. They would carry on that vital Dalish tradition of passing on their culture to their children.

She had reasoned at the time spending the rest of her life bonded to her best friend would be better than a loveless match altogether.  Now she felt guilty for not loving the man like he deserved. Adding to the guilt her failure to prevent his death had caused, came the guilt of failing her clan, and the guilt she felt for mourning him as a friend and not the life mate he was supposed to have been. She knew this was the guilt that Cole had spoken of.

She had not heard Mahanon’s voice ghost through her mind sense Cole’s revelation. Maddeningly she didn’t think she could let him go. If he didn’t return would she mourn him? Would his death be made more real, without his voice rattling around in her head?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh crap this was hard... it really didn't want to come together...
> 
> Sorry if it's too 'talky.'


	9. A Swirl of Maddening Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Solas was stubbornly silent... bald bast@rd... I think he was pleased Nyxx thought it out and didn't just go eeny meenie miney mo, or worst "ah mages bad!"  
> Anyone have any thoughts on this? What would your Solas say?

She truly wished she hadn’t been so damn truthful with the men… They were men after all! They tiptoed around her like a heart broken lass. She became so annoyed with their attempts at ‘understanding’ she found herself giving a grunt of disgust that Cassandra would be proud of.

Seriously what had she been thinking! The only answer she could come up with was she wanted to show she would not lie to them anymore. Even a lie of omission. She blamed Cole’s words to her, “He’s not there. Just you- giving your guilt voice.” Had she thought this confession to the men would absolve her guilt?

~*~*~

As soon as they had arrived back at Haven her advisors ushered her behind closed doors. They wasted no time letting their opinions of her decision be known. Apparently, when they had sent her to meet with the Lord Seeker they had not intended for her to actually _do_ anything. Seriously what had they expected her to do? Stand there and look pretty among the Nobles? They had moaned about how the Inquisition _needed_ to get help to close the Breach. Then they had dragged their feet debating on whom to approach. They then _needed_ her to approach the Templars and what sit back while they continued to argue the best course of action?! Again?!

She had gripped her mask in a white knuckled fist, hiding the disgusted sneer she had wanted to give them. They were the ones who had set her up as their precious Herald. They could damn well hold their tongues when she acted the role they had given her!

The Templar veterans had arrived three days after Nyxx and her party. They would attempt to close the Breach the next day. She wondered what she would do after this. If they were able to seal that ghastly scar in the sky- they would still need her. Everyday more and more reports came in requesting the Heralds help to close rifts all across Thedas.

She lay in her clearing. In the snow, yet again. The breach would close. Then she would close the rifts. The Inquisition would continue to grow. And when they no longer needed her? What then? She didn’t think she could return to her clan. She had failed them too much.

She didn’t think staying with the Inquisition would do much good. Not for her people, not when the two founders of the order were die hard Andrastians. Cassandra and Leliana were trying to strengthen the core of their religion, to bring it back to order. They wouldn’t let her use the Inquisition to further the Dalish culture. They couldn’t let their Herald run off and support the Dalish in their polytheism.

The women meant well in their own ways, they would try to support equality between elves and humans. But how far would that go? One of the core tenants of their religion demanded they spread their faith. That was one of the conditions set down by their Maker. He would only return when every corner of the world sang his chant-

The Dalish would not survive that. They would fight and they would die. Even if by some miracle she could gain them lands that they could settle. Would they have the time to grow as a nation? Would they be able to fight back the tide of the humans’ faith? Or would they continue to argue among themselves the way they did at every Arlathvhen, until the humans’ marched upon them again?

It was thoughts like these that made her hate her people. They would rather cling to the past instead of forging a new path. Like babes learning to walk they clung to their elders robes, to terrified to trust in their own strength.

Tears slid from the corners of her eyes, they trailed along her temples. And she saw no way to change it, no way to make them see they were slowly dying, choking on their pride, and drowning in the lost glory of their people. What could she do? She was the Shemlen’s Herald. The Dalish likely saw her as no better than the ‘flat-ears’ in the city slums, worse even because she had once been Dalish. What weight would her words have if she were to confront the complacency of her people? With a trembling sigh she knew she would still have to try.

The soft crunch of bare feet interpreted her thoughts. She had felt him there for a time, had allowed him to think himself hidden. Clearly he had grown tired of simply watching. She arched her back, stretched her neck looking behind her into the darkened shadows cast by the entwined branches above, and gave him the attention his restless movements had asked for.

~*~*~

The wet tracks glinted in the small light that lit the clearing. Solas had been taken aback by the look of loss that haunted her eyes. Was she thinking of her mate? She had not shown any emotion that would indicate the man had been more than a friend. It had puzzled him. But then perhaps this was why no one had seen her mourning. When she left Haven’s gates without companions was it so she could cry in the snow like this? He had been angry that she belonged to another, a small, dark part of him had been pleased she was no longer bound. That same disgusting piece now growled possessively, angry that she would dare mourn the man. He pushed it aside and focused on the sorrow he felt for the woman. She brought her hands to her face and scrubbed them over her eyes.

“Hello,” he replied calmly walking up to her. She looked up at him, the tracks were gone but her lashes were still damp.

“Hello?” she lilted the word making it a question.

He held out his hand to her, “I take it you do this often?”

“The laying in a snow bank thing or the crying by myself thing?”

“Both?”

She took his hand, a small smile cut across her lips, “The snow thing I fear is regular enough that it could be called a habit, the crying is a new and temporary thing.” He tugged her to her feet. “Am I needed back at the Chantry?”

“No, I thought perhaps you would like to talk?” He replied.

“Ah, so are we going to have that word you wished to have before?” She smiled cheekily.

“Ah- Yes- I suppose we could.” He started leading them back to Haven, suddenly cursing himself for this foolish attempt to comfort her. “Though I believe you’ve answered some of the questions I would have asked you.” 

“Oh,” She was wary of what he would ask, afraid that the urge to be truthful would lead her to bare more of herself to this man. Out of routine she spread her arms wide then stretched them above her head trying to ease the tension growing in her spine.

“So the Templars will put their powers to use sealing the Breach.” Solas replied groping for a topic. “Any group corrupted by a demon must be watched carefully. At least they know how to fight.”

She paused in her steps, surprised. “I expected an apostate mage would hate Templars. But, then again, you are very _un_ -expected.”

“They have their flaws, but I try to understand them. You cannot change anything without understanding.” Solas reasoned.

“You wish to change them? The Templars?” She eyed him curiously. “You looked so- disapproving when I called an alliance with them. I didn’t think you and I would be on the same page.”

“What do you mean? You allied with them to what, enact a revolution?” Solas was baffled. “If you wanted to implement change wouldn’t it have been easier to disband the order?”

“The Inquisition would have lost the good will of the people if I had terminated their watch dogs altogether.” She replied with a shrug.

“It would have undermined what we’ve been building; people flock to us because we are offering a chance of stability. Despite the way the Templars left the Chantry’s control, the people of Thedas still see them as a revered Order, an order supposedly devoted to maintaining stability. A group that’s been in place since the founding of their religion. If the Inquisition were to crush this venerated group, don’t you think the faithful to the Chantry might see us as even more of a threat to their faith?”

“I suppose.” He conceded. “But, you run the risk of making the Inquisition seem allied with the Chantry. Or there are others that might see us as a threat to the Chantry’s power no matter what simply because you reined in their ‘Dogs’ when they could not.” He argued playing devil’s advocate.

“The Chantry sees us as a threat no matter what we do. We were founded by the Left and the Right hand of the Divine with no input from Chantry authority. But, the common people have had their lives flipped upside down because the Chantry screwed up. The people are restless; they will not take much more change. There has been so much blatant thoughtless grabs for freedom or power, I don’t see the people of Thedas sitting back and letting us build everything from the ground up. They will enact their own rebellion, undermining our efforts to change their world outright.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t go to the Templars with the intent to reinstate the Circles of old. Of course, like you said, the system is flawed. So much abuse went on in the Circles that it was hard for me to know what course of action to take. I turned to the Templars because in all our travels we’ve encountered several Mages who just want to go back to the safety of their Circles. Vivienne being one of those Mages.” She frowned like she had a bad taste in her mouth.

“We have to give them something familiar to cling to, and the Templars are, for better or worse, as good a thing as any. For 9 eras the common people of Thedas have seen the Templars as a protective force. The presence of the Templars protects the Mages from the fear of the common man.” She stopped, looking at him confused. The frustration of getting her thoughts across clear.

“They were crushed from the top down; they have a chance to be reshaped. I would have them not as jailers but as protectors. If we had of taken the rebel Mages we could have drawn the wrath of Thedas and the Templars down on us. But, by taking the Templars we avoided that and gain those Mages that found safety in their Circles. Perhaps as the Inquisition grows we can change the way the Circles are run? They are a place of education and safety. From all I’ve heard elven and human Mages are treated exactly the same. The environment seems to foster equality among the two races.” She was really just speaking her thoughts aloud at this point.

“There is so much potential for change! It could all start from the Circles! If only- If only the Circles weren’t closed off from the rest of the people.” She shook her head. Seriously?! She could potentially salvage the humans from the shit storm they created. But, she was hard pressed to come up with anything to preserve her people’s future. “Why do they get so many chances to fix things?”

“Just ignore me. I probably have no idea what I’m talking about.” She walked away from him, heading away from Haven’s gates.

“Where are you going?” he called.

“Just over there,” she replied waving her hand towards the training dummies. “My head hurts- I’m going to try and shut it up.” She unsheathed her blades and twirled them in her hands, with a wary sigh. “This might take a while-”


	10. Madness Crashes the Party

_“Once we were in our peace with our lives assured. Once we were not afraid of the dark.”_

She rested her head on the tavern table, closed her eyes and let the bards song sink into her bones.

_“Once we sat in our kingdom with hope and pride.”_

The Breach was closed; the big threat that had loomed over them was gone.

_“Once we ran through the fields with great strides. We held the Fade and the demon’s flight.”_

The more rowdy revelers were dancing around the fire outside. Somehow the Tavern had become a place of solemnity.

_“So far from our children and from our lives. We held together the fragile sky to keep our way of life.”_

“Hey, Herald come join the party!” Varric called from the tavern door.

“I thought I told you before I would rather take a nap.” She called back cheekily. Still she rose to join him.

_“Once we raised up our chalice in victory-.”_

~*~*~

Wrenching the trebuchet’s crank, Nyxx briefly wondering why the little Dalish hunter was the one manning the heavy weaponry.

Right on the heels of this thought, Bull charged through a Spellbinder. An arrow bit into the wood beside her right ear, Solas encased the Marksman responsible in ice. While from the corner of her eye she watched as Blackwall held back two Venatori soldiers.

Ah, that’s why- back to cranking it was. The ground shook as she fired the machine, then quaked as the avalanche swept out the enemy ranks pouring over the Mountains ridge.

A cheer rose up from the men. The relief was short lived as a monstrous blood chilling roar rends the night air apart. Just before the siege machine is blown to bits by a fiery blast and the air is knocked out of her.

Gasping for air she picked herself up. She struggled to focus, scanning her surroundings. She regretted it immediately when she noticed the soldier that had been standing nearest to her before the blast. He was barely recognizable, the wooden shrapnel buried in his body looked like quills. After that she refused to truly look at the men and women who were little more than piles of limbs and armor.

“AHH! That’s just messed up!” Bull roared to the skies.

“Everyone to the gates!” Nyxx ordered, ignoring the sharp pain in her chest and the dull ache in her belly.

Solas had a gash above his left eye; the blood ran down his face dripping from his jaw into the snow. Bull limped slightly as they ran the path back to the gates. She noticed how Blackwall favored his left arm and side.

Cullen stood at the gates ushering the few soldiers still standing threw.

A dragon! A fucking DRAGON!!! SERIOUSLY?! Her brain screamed to no particular deity. You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!! Do you want me fix this mess or what!! Cause if you’re just dragging out the End of the world you’re a real Dick! She was sorely tempted to sit down and refuse to continue whatever crap game this was… Fucking seriously?! A D-R-A-G-O-N. The damned thing looked blighted too!! So- a fucking _Arch Demon_... REALLY!? Where the hell was the warden when you needed her?!?

~*~*~

She gripped the sword tighter, her left shoulder throbbed painfully. Darkness ate at the edges of her vision. The Elder One had only held her by the wrist for a few minutes. The weight of her body though light still caused strain on her shoulder. But it had only gotten worse when he had slung her away from him. She had not only felt but heard the meaty pop of a dislocated joint, and the sharp wet crack of a clean break. Just before her back slammed into the trebuchet, pain exploded through her body. Each hurt warring with the other for the top place.

She saw the fire signal trail thru the night sky, they were safe. She remembered little beyond cursing the pretender god for his arrogance and kicking the siege machines crank. She ran, then she was falling, everything went black when pain crashed through her battered body.

~*~*~

She was alive… how- how in the Void and the Beyond was she alive? First things first, she needed to set her arm. She tugged her glove off her right hand and shoved it more securely between her teeth. She had fixed such dislocations on others many times before and knew this was going to be difficult. The taught muscles she was so proud of were going to work against her in this instance.

In the end it took six tries, ~~five~~ four near blackouts, one complete blackout, and a lot of extremely inventive (physically impossible) curses, but her shoulder was properly back where it belonged. Next she focused on her broken arm, pure dumb luck had kept the broken bones from ripping through the skin, especially after the way she was tossed around.

Lastly, she chugged a healing potion, hung her head between her knees, and caught her breath. She should be feeling the cold, the fact that she didn’t worried her.

Eventually, she pushed herself to her feet. The simple task seemed to take ages and alerted her to a whole new world of pain. She was _alive_ AND _standing_! She tried to feel excited about this proof of life, but could only muster a grudging sigh of acceptance.

Her surroundings were lit by a familiar green light. Panting through the pain she studied the ~~mark~~ Anchor, she corrected. Brilliant she was _glowing_ … this was really going to fuck with her night vision. What did that blighted bastard do to her this time? He was the one who had created this thing, the Elder One.

The cavern was large and clearly man made, stone stairs led up to a carved passageway. The only exit, she should get going, try to catch up to the others. A wary sigh rattled out of her aching chest, just because she was standing didn’t mean she could walk though. She pushed herself to go forward. She could walk, great now she had no reason not to keep going… Yippee…

Before long the tunnel spilled into another cavern this one crawling with demons, she tried to back up. The healing potion had helped but she was in no shape to fight. The demons advanced, she was sure she was dead, after all she had done. She could have saved herself the trouble of fixing her shoulder and broken arm! The mark on her hand flared brighter, green sparks cracked, then a rift opened above the advancing horde. She stared in stunned disbelief as the demons were pulled into the rift before it closed in on itself. She eyed the mark; it no longer glowed like a demonic lantern. Well at least she was no longer glowing…

The mouth of the cave came into view, sun light spilled into the darkness. Standing at the entrance she noticed it was likely just past noon. Tending to her injuries had taken time. The sky was clear she should press onwards. Her body protested she really could use more rest, and another potion. She couldn’t spare the time; she couldn’t let them put more space between them.

Her damaged arm pressed tight to her chest, she trudged on, knocking back a vial of red liquid. The tune that had sank into her bones the day before rose up to her mind. Keeping her company where Mahanon no longer did.

_“Once we sat in the light of our dreams. Once we were in our homeland with strength and might. Once we were not afraid of the night.”_

Placing one foot in front of the other, she studiously ignored the way her voice cracked on the words. The Elder One had marched on Haven to get to her. So many dead… Would her guilt give her a whole new slew of voices to fill her head?

_“We held the Fade and the demon’s flight so far from our children and from our lives. We held together the fragile sky to keep our way of life.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this song! Also, it just seems to fit the Dalish...


	11. The Dread and the Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dread Wolf takes her...

When the refugees had been settled the Seeker gathered up a few able men and headed back into the night. The Commander joined their ranks as they retraced their steps. The search persisted till the blizzard sent them trudging back in defeat.

The light of day didn’t bring any relief or comfort, only more problems. They had no plan, the advisors and the Seeker, in their confusion and shock, were too busy arguing about what to do next. They had been dealt a harsh blow, and they were faltering.

Despite the good will they had garnered no noble would house the Inquisition on their lands. Not once word spread that a Darkspawn Magister had marched upon them and killed the Herald. That was another problem, despite her brave stand while the people of Haven fled, she would be vilified as false. The Herald’s defeat would be seen as proof that the Chantry had been correct to declare the Inquisition heretics. The humans would simply reason that their Maker would not let the true Herald of His Bride fall. The Chantry would use that reasoning to swing the people’s faith back to their favor.

His chest knotted with distress, his plans had been completely circumvented, yet again. So many deaths and he was back to square one. In fact, with the loss of Lavellan, he felt he was in a worse position than the one in which he had started.

Solas had run himself ragged tending to the wounded. He’d only managed to rest a few hours.  A difficult task when he was busy struggling with his guilt.

Nyxx had marched out of the Chantry to face _his_ mistake, _his_ arrogance. He had seen it in her eyes; she held no delusions that she would survive her encounter with Corypheus. ‘She died facing the Darkspawn Magister that _you_ empowered. Foolish cur!’ his mind howled.  ‘ _Your_ machinations killed her! She stumbled into _your_ ill thought out mess! _Solas_ claims yet another life.’

The afternoon sun blazed brightly above completely unaffected by the previous night’s horrors. He jolted out of his self hate, surging forward he made his way to the edge of camp. Frowning, he eyed the horizon as if he could see past the many miles they had traveled back to Haven.

He could not begin to comprehend- How? The Veil pulsed, his power shivered through the barrier like static. He’d felt a small rift punch through the Veil, then close. Was she still alive? Stunned hope blossomed in his chest.

‘Perhaps, next time you should stab her directly- It is unlikely she will survive, not after what you’ve done to her. It would be quicker than the path you have forced her to traverse,’ his mind mocked darkly.

~*~*~

At first the tension from her constant trembling had been annoying adding a constant thrumming ache to her already battered body.

Nyxx had passed a burnt out kart miles back and just now stumbled through a snow buried fire pit. Leaning heavily against a tree, she could only hope these were signs she was going the right way.

By now the cold had dug deep into her bones, freezing the pain, intensifying the blaze in her lungs. The shivers that had violently quaked through her had stopped. Nyxx was sure the only reason she was still standing was because she was frozen into the position.

Darkness was falling, she wasn’t making any progress. Blinking slowly, she grasped for her last potion, the liquid was slush in its little vial. With a sigh she rested her brow on the rough bark, just a moment. Just a second-

Vaguely, her mind registered the howl of wolves echoing through the night. The Dread Wolf could take her… She was done…

~*~*~

He’d smelled the fresh chill in the air. The promise of another blizzard working its way towards them prompted him into instinctive action. Quickly he retrieved his belongings, pausing just long enough to snatch a few blue and red potions from the healers’ dwindling stash.

The sun was setting and he still had not found her. Seven more miles or so and he’d be back at Haven. Turning back, he had begun to wonder if he had missed her somehow.

Excited howls snapped his attention back to his original path. The pack was restless; something interesting had stumbled into their territory. Straining his ears, head cocked. An injured something… Adjusting his course towards their calls, Solas picked up his pace.

His gaze scanned the ground, the trees. He entered the thin tree line. Another chorus of howls, urged him on, he was close. Breathing deep he took in the nights chill tinted scents. He stalked further, she was here. Eyes glinting in the dark as they darted, desperate- There!

“HERA- Lavellan!” Solas yelled, dashing to the huddled shape. He sent a slow heating magic to engulf her, she didn’t stir. His breath stuck in his chest, fearing he was too late.

She knelt there in the tree’s shadow, slumped against the trunk, head bowed. She looked as though she could be praying. Had she been beseeching his brethren? Cupping her chin in his hand he lifted her head, she was so cold…  He searched beneath cold stiffened tresses for a pulse. He noticed the empty vial she still gripped.

“Nyxx?” He whispered.

A choked gasp of relief left him when he felt the timid thump beneath his finger tips. He pushed his magic into her, taking stock of her injures, their severity. Leaning closer he smelled the earthy elfroot concoction on her breath. She was terribly wounded. He felt a number of injuries all through her body. The ones to her head were mending themselves. She likely had a concussion. The healing potion had fixed the more life threatening damage. The fact they were still healing could only mean the blows had been very severe.

She managed a weak whimper when his magic swept over her left arm. Broken, but she had done a fine job immobilizing the injury. He would heal her more completely once he’d found shelter.

Satisfied he finally dared to move her. Tightly wrapped in his wolf pelt, he scooped the little bundle underneath his cloak, clutching her to his chest. They wouldn’t make it back to camp before the blizzard hit, but if he moved quickly he could get to the large outcropping of rocks he’d past a few miles back. They would shield them from the worst of the storm.

The wolves’ howls kicked up once more. Feet thumping back through his tracks, he hurried into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...To safety... hehehe...
> 
> So, I might be asking the potions to do a lot here. In my head cannon the potions kept Nyxx from getting frostbite. They are the reason she's walking away from severe exposure with her fingers and toes still attached... 
> 
> Also! Like how do the potions not freeze in their vials?  
> Seriously? Like should'ant they be licking them like first aid ice pops?
> 
> Ohh! Wait couldn't they be used as like- nutritional supplements? For when there's no food... 
> 
> ...Where's Professor Snape and a potions theory lecture when you need it...


	12. Seduced by Insanity

The rocky structure offered more than he could have hoped. A shallow cave in the rock face provided them with a roof.

He’d settled her on his bedroll and finished healing the remaining injuries. Tracing weak heat runes on her wrist and ankles. For added measure he drew another on her chest.

Finally done, he settled against the cave's wall, exhausted. The blizzard screeched and raged outside.

Nyxx stirred, Solas blinked blearily. He must have dozed off. She blinked, sluggishly murmuring softly, her words unrecognizable with her teeth chittering.

The heat runes must not be enough, he thought leaning over her, intending to strengthen them. She reached her hand out blindly, searching. She closed her eyes when she found his chest.

“Come ta’ bed an’ keep me warm.” She pleaded pitifully.

He sat there frozen, torn with indecision.

“Is- colllddaa-!” she stuttered, tugging his shirt weakly. Propriety, was defeated and kicked out in to the blizzard. Stretching out behind her, he rested his arm awkwardly at her waist.

With a drowsy huff she rolled to face him. He stiffened as she cuddled to his chest and tangled her legs with his. He flinched when she slipped her hands beneath his tunic resting her cold palms against his stomach.

“See Mahanon?” she chuckled shakily, nuzzling her chilled nose to his neck. “Told you… is cold-” he could hear the teasing in her voice. “Sleep,” she yawned, patting his chest. As she drifted back to sleep, Nyxx's fingers lazily slid along his skin.

The beast paced, torn between pleasure and petty resentment. She was wrapped around him, like a vine. and yet, she believed him to be someone else.

Solas stewed. Sleep was going to be unlikely.

~*~*~

She awoke slowly, snuggling the male form beneath her. Sighing contentedly, it was so warm. She was in no hurry to wake up, not after being so bone achingly cold.

Nyxx eyes snapped open. Why wasn’t she an icicle? Her mind struggled to make sense, trying to cobble together an explanation.

Suddenly, the hand on her hip twitched.

More importantly, why was there arms wrapped around her? She began to panic.

Why were the hands attached to said arms under her clothing?! One hand rested on her upper back, between her shoulder blades. While the other was shoved down her breeches! Cradling her hip and arse!! Breath stirred her hair in time with the rhythmic rise and fall of the chest she rested on.

Tentatively, she lifted her head, eyeing the sleeping ~~man~~ elf. Solas, she sighed in relief.

A growl rumbled from his chest. His grip tightened, the hand at Nyxx’s hip softly stroked the edge of her smalls.

Her heart stopped, air solidified into a hard knot in her chest. For a, self proclaimed, solitary Dreamer he was a really touchy feely guy when he slept.

A flurry of movement and she was suddenly on her back. Solas stood above her, the offending hands held away from him as if they were traitors.  

“Nyx- _L-lethal_ \- Lavellan- M- My apologies! I did not mean to-” his mouth stumbled as his feet nimbly put more space between them. “It was not my intention! That was purely an accident.”

 She sat there staring at him. She supposed she should be upset, but the Apostate was such a gentleman. All she could see was the humor of the situation. She buried her head against her knees trying to stop the laughter.

Her shoulders shook as the rest of her trembled. The, oh so proper, Arcane Advisor to the Inquisition. An Apostate no less, had woken up to find himself, absentmindedly, groping the Inquisition’s Herald of Andraste. It was fucking hilarious.

“ _Lethallan_?” Solas called, daring to move closer. “Do not cry. Truly- I am deeply sor-.” She looked up then tears running down her face, giggling.

Solas paused, his lips suddenly turned down, giving her the most disapproving frown she had ever seen. His FACE! She choked before crumpling into another fit of laughter.

“Careful, Solas or the shemlen Maker might punish you for getting grabby with his Herald.” She stuttered as she hugged her stomach, laughing so hard her sides ached, she couldn’t breathe.

He sighed suppressing a sly smile. “Are you quite done?”

Nyxx paused considering as she pulled herself together, “Yes- Wait-” she thought. “No- What’d you think of the Herald of AndrASSte? Pretty _Divine_ right?” She waggled her brows suggestively. “Okay, now I’m done.” She smiled at him smugly despite the withering look he was giving her.

“The blizzard has past. We should be getting back to the others.” Solas replied gathering his belongings.

“Solas! It’s still dark! I want to stay here. We can leave at dawn!” Nyxx argued. She didn’t want to return. She'd joked about her title. But, here she was Nyxx of clan Lavellan.  She wasn’t ready to resume her role just yet.

“We could stay here and cuddle some more!” She teased dragging her feet. Done adjusting his pack, Solas took her wrist.

"You should be more wary around males, Lethallan. You do not know what could happen. Being so- flirtatious, will get you into trouble." he lectured, pulling her along. "Trouble even you cannot slip out of, _Herald_. Honestly, your bold cheek will likely be your downfall." Solas added, shaking his head.

"You're the only male around, Solas," Nyxx chuckled, "and we both know you’re not going to do anything to me." she shrugged him away.

His eyes narrowed, "You really should be afraid, even if it's me, you cannot know for sure." his grip on her tightened.

She remembered the way he had fled her little cabin, a flustered indignant mess.

"But what if I’m hoping ‘ _something_ _might happen’_? What if I’m not afraid of _you_ doing ‘ _something_ ’?" she challenged boldly, pushing him, calling his bluff. Eyes flashing mischievously, she was expecting him to back away in defeat.

Solas shifted to a stop. Eyes glinting at her dare. His free hand suddenly snaked to her waist slipping into her jacket. Her startled gasp ended on a choked note when he hooked his fingertips into the top of her breeches; roughly he tugged her flush to his chest.

He lowered his head. His mouth ghosted feather light, his misted breath mixing with her own in the air. Lips whispered across her jaw. She panted, eyes wide, not quite seeing- Is he going to- will he stop?

That restless hand continued in its exploration. Moving over her waist once more; kneading a path down her spine. Startled by his passionate aggression, her focus narrowed to his questing hand, his not quite touching lips.

She caught her breath anticipating, waiting. The heat that burned at her core, the immediate gut deep want of him shocked her. His hand proved its daring when he cupped her bottom pressing her hips more securely against his own. She felt the ridged length of his sex as he rocked suggestively against her, she whimpered as a delicious shiver sent chill bumps over her heated skin.

Nuzzling the tip of her pierced ear, his lips resting on the lobe of her ear, finally touching, “Be careful. One of these days your teasing is going to get you burned.” He threatened, loosening his grip he stepped away from her; he gave her enough room for her to flee.

"If you don't runaway now, I might just eat you." His gaze prowled across her face and form, a slow hungry promise.

Those words... how could he say those words... She was red faced and flustered, knees weak... he looked confident, controlled, unaffected! How could this hobo say such things without blinking!?

 Did she dare defy him?

Seemingly satisfied with her hesitation, Solas stalked out of the cave. The painfully proper gentleman was asserting himself once more. Cursing herself a cowered she hurried after him.

At least her arm was no longer broken. ASS... She’d thank him later; right now she was content to glare daggers at his stupid bald head…

Hi ho hi ho off a’ Heralding she would go…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creators I'm lame...


	13. Faith of the Masses, Fate of the Madness

She had stomped through the snow beside him cutting him withering glares. The sight of her alive warmed him, even if she was pouting, and kicking the snow like a  _da’lin_. Her long black hair flowed behind her like a banner.

The sun was rising when the tents came into view. She dropped behind him the closer they drew. He continued forward leaving her to sulk. When he was a few yards away a cold solid mass smacked the back of his head before exploding in an icy puff of snow. He whirled on her stunned. Not missing a step she walked past him into camp still glaring.

They marched into camp to shouts of praise and disbelief. She told the advisers and inner circle all that she had learned from her time with Corypheus. As she left Solas joined her once more.

“That was a little childish don’t you think?” he murmured.

“What’s that  _hahren_? You wish to grab my _arse_ again?” she shot back. “Or are you going to gobble me up for being naughty?”

“You are getting close to the fire,  _da’lin_ ,” Solas warned darkly. “Keep being wicked and my hand will do more than grab your impish ass.”

Nyxx stared at him wide eyed with shock. She opened her mouth to articulate a reply, closed it, and then tried again. Only to find herself still staring at the smug Apostate. Finally, she grabbed onto a sensible idea and promptly fled to her tent. Where she stayed for the rest of the day.

Solas watched her retreating form. He was briefly pleased with himself for leaving her speechless. It did not last long. Soon, he was calling himself three kinds of fool for allowing himself to be goaded by her.

Nyxx was an enticing piece of work. Her constant provocations almost guaranteed to prick his pride. Compelling him to play her game or lose. Even if he won he still lost.

The feel of her hip was burned into the flesh of his palm. Similar to the way his power was stamped into her hand. His change in attitude to her teasing was not leaving him unfazed. Her scent lingered on his clothes. The wolf pelt he’d bundled her in, a constant reminder of how she’d wrapped herself around him.

~*~*~

They sang their Maker's hymn, shining eyes blind to her pointed ears. Their faith in Andraste's Herald gave their words strength. Helping to bolster their belief that they were not fighting a losing battle. So long as their beacon continued to return from beyond death's veil. The Maker's hand in this troubled time was plain to see, they were not abandoned. The Maker still occupied his throne, still wished to save his children.

She stood before them clinging to a cracking mask of peaceful humility. Her head bowed she forced herself to project a since of awed reverence for their faith in the Maker, in her. They needn't know that her head was truly bowed by the burden of their hope on her shoulders. That it was down turned to hide when the mask finally shattered. It would shatter, of that she had no doubt.

This was too much proof of what the advisers had warned her. The story they worked to foster even wider afield was taking on a life of its own. Even now their voices tangled with that of the enthralled faithful. She had no doubt that even they were beginning to cling to their propaganda. Her friends’ faith adding to the weight that threatened to crush her. Mother Giselle spoke, her words swallowed by the tempest building in her head. They made no sense to her...

"A word." A command in her ear, a push of aura as he passed close by. A life line that command, a cold splash of water that press from the Fade. She felt a child again sitting at the Keeper's knee. Recalling her to duty. Giving her strength to shore up her fragile mask, if only for a moment.

Her mind working on a plan of escape she turned to Mother Giselle. The woman glowed with pride at the faith in her flock of lambs. The look of zealotry one can achieve when the conviction of one’s faith is returned by a multitude of others.

In that moment she hated the woman, the song of faith she started nothing more than a manipulation. Designed to show the Herald the strength Faith wrought in people. The Mother's attempt to fill her with that same unwavering conviction.

The woman's motives were likely meant to be a kindness. People like her, so deep in their faith, always wish to share the peace they find in their beliefs. Always thinking if they could just help a nonbeliever see the truth! Then they too would be comforted by the Maker's grace.

Still anger burned through her as the woman began to address the people. Nurturing them with the Maker's words, wrapping them in the warmth of the Chant. Heads were still bowed, knees still bent, their eyes closed as they prayed.

She slipped away, dissolving in the shadows of the tents. She made her way to the edge of camp, knowing that he would be there waiting. She caught sight of him and trailed behind him as he stalked away. He seemed as agitated as she; did it bother him that the humans were bowing to her in a religious fervor?

She tried to wrap the anger at the Mother around her, clung to the curiosity that Solas' command had born in her. Anything else and her mind would break. Her drive to appear fine no longer necessary now that she had left the spot light of reverence.

He lead her to a solitary field blanketed with snow, a torch protruded from the snow. His stalking slowed as he neared it, his stride seemed to turn into a cocky swagger. With a flick of his hand blue fire flared to life fighting back the darkness.

The gesture seemed to cause a flutter in her belly, lighting a second fire there. The things she’d allowed those hands to do. Her mind grabbed the memory, giving her a brief reprieve.

"The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting..." his voice revealing his own awe.

“Yeah, look where it got the last elf that dared trust the humans’ fickle faith.” She grumbled as the look in their bright eyes flashed in her mind again. So many trusting faces turned to her, their beacon of faith, a faith she did not claim. She dropped to her knees. The sheer force of will she had been clinging to no longer enough to hold her up. The faith of these people the last straw, the breaking point.

" _Lethallan_?! What is the matter? The Anchor?" He questioned.

She shook her head from side to side. 

"It's too much Solas,  _Abelas_ - Forgive me, it's too high. I- I can't-" she sounded like the bloody Spirit.

"How am I to support them all? How can they place such faith in me? We have lost so many because they were between him and me!

“And still they follow me... Don't they see they are not safe crowded as they are by my side, bowed at my feet?" She tried to stop the vomit of words that fell from her lips. Confusion choking her, still the tide of words could not be stemmed. She didn't dare look at him, couldn't bring herself to straighten.

"They follow me with such conviction! Believing that every time I come back from the dead their  _Maker’s_ -.” She spat the word as if it were venom in her mouth, " _Will_  is  _self-evident_! When I feel  _NOTHING_  of  _Divinity_!!” She looked at him in desperation.

"All I can think is how much more luck do I possess? When will Death grow tired of this game of catch and release?

“I  _cannot_  take a step without accepting that I might not survive it!! All I feel is madness and insanity snapping its jagged maw at me, as I  _STUMBLE_  from one  _nightmare_  to another!

“It's as if reality has twisted in an effort to trip me. I am left reeling trying to right myself, as the world continues to twist in on itself. Working ever harder in its wish to see me fall!! And  _NOW_  it throws the faith and weight of an ever growing hoard of souls on my chest. As if the world surviving another day didn't already hang from my neck like a choking chain!!" She heard the hysteria in her words.

Forcefully she clamped her hands over her mouth; pressing, pushing. Physically holding back the pitiful mewling, as she sobbed breathless. Her mind pathetically grabbing at the slippery shreds of her sanity.

Rough hands, big warm hands pressed against her forehead, they tingled. Her mind found perches, pulling itself together. His magic pulsed threw her, a calming wave. She did not move, merely sat there, as she came back to herself.

She opened her eyes looked past his hands, met his gaze. She had expected disgust, revulsion at her lack of strength. Disappointment at the poisonous words she dared to voice.

But he smiled, the pleasure shone in his eyes, it confused her.

"You will be okay. You’re not alone in this” After a pause he continued. “Your mask out there was impeccable. I had worried you were starting to believe your own myth, that the Maker held your life in his hand. To see that you understand the seriousness. That your heart does not covet power, and that you know blind faith will not see this trouble resolved... It pleases me more than I can say." His smile turned amused as he pulled her hands down. The soft gesture allowed his fingertips to brush feather light against her lips.

He was crouched before her, balanced on the balls of his feet, so close he loomed over her. For a mage he looked every bit a hunter. His words, his charm were too much and her heart stuttered in her chest. When she realized she stared moon eyed at the man she dropped her gaze, bowed her head. 

She noticed how she sat in the snow, yet again. She feared this wallowing in the snow thing was all too easily becoming a compulsion.

Glancing towards his feet she saw how he seemed to be standing atop the snow. His feet not leaving as deep an imprint as they should. Mages she thought ruefully, pursing her lips, what show offs they were. Even the solitary hermit-y ones couldn’t resist showing a little ‘flair’.

Finally he stood satisfied she was no longer breaking apart. Down to business, "The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours..." he explained what she needed to know.

She took a deep breath and surprised him again by posing a question "All right, what is it, and how do you know about it?" he took it as a good sign that she was questioning again, her curiosity peeking through. 

"Such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our Pantheon. All that remain are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the fade, echoes of a dead empire..." he went on. His words an unknowing balm to her ears.

So the Herald thing was fleeting. It would not last long when the humans learned the orb was born of her people, she would not be holy for long.

"Even if we do beat Corypheus, eventually they'll find a way to blame us..." the words left her mouth on a sigh.

 _Hello Shartan, I look forward to meeting you. I should be there once the shems are through with me. Andraste sure does like to get us elves in trouble. We are going to be the best of buds!’_ she chirped mentally. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t quite back to herself.

He agreed with her conclusion. Then asserted the need to "be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies". He went on to tell her the next move, advising her stumbling steps...

As they moved north, she felt more and more like herself, not a sputtering beacon. At night when they camped she joined in with her companions drawing on their presence. Each of them had their own horrors they faced, and still they continued to put one foot in front of the other. If they could live with their stumbling, she owed it to them to do the same.

Beside, the damn Anchor thing couldn't do the job without the rest of her attached...

At least she didn't think it could...

She filed that disturbing thought under more shit to ask him about later…


	14. Bleeding Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idea born from my first encounter with the surgeon we meet after getting to Skyhold.  
> After the chick said leeches I started yelling Cullen’s name in abject horror. Like what the FUCK YO? We have fucking MAGES! WHY do we need fucking LEECHES?!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this has been sitting around in my saves for awhile, really intended as a bit of fun for myself. But, sense RL is being a 'D-HOLE' right now, and the story pace has stalled. I’m going to slip this in and give a little humor so you don’t think I've dropped the story.

Nyxx stood at Tarasyl'an Te'las’ portcullis staring up at the fortress still not quite believing that it was hers, technically speaking of course. The Apostate Hermit had gotten ~~her~~ the Inquisition (still technically her) a Fucking Castle!

She had been shocked into near terror when Cassandra and Leliana had sprung the title of Inquisitor on her and in front of a crowd of Maker worshippers no less. Giving her no chance to tell them to take their stupid sword and go fuck themselves, respectfully of course.

After calming down, Nyxx began to see the advantages of her position. She could help the People, help the city elves, possibly make changes to the shems’ extremely broken system. She _had_ told Solas about wanting to fix the Templars' system and the Mages' circles.

A chance to change the whole thing, clean the corrupt, right the wrongs. This was the only reason she was still with the Inquisition and not halfway to the Tirashan, with a hood hiding her face and a new name. She really liked the name Aria… It may have taken her a while to calm down… At least she had a backup plan…

So here she was, weeks later, with the title of Inquisitor stamped on her like a vallaslin, an ever growing army, and one (ridiculously awkward) sword richer.

Seriously, the sword really was unnecessarily heavy. Even if it is ‘ _an incredibly important symbol of office_ , blah-blah-blah, _essential for indicating her pivotal position as Leader of the Inquisition_ ’. It wasn’t that the weapon was too heavy for her, because it wasn’t! She could lift it; the thing was just weighted wrong... She should probably get Harritt on that…

Nyxx suddenly realized just how bored she was waiting for her companions to join her. They were supposed to be heading out to Crestwood to meet with Hawke’s Warden contact. Sighing, she moved away from the gate, deciding to speak with the surgeon.

Cullen had apparently pulled her from the refugee camps that had been cropping up outside ~~her castle~~ 'the fortress'.

In the weeks sense they had arrived she’d been so busy with Advisor meetings and Inquisitorial duties. Nyxx had yet to speak with the woman. She was curious about how the injured fared and just how many had been lost.

She’d been surprised the Surgeon was no magic user and pleased that her army wasn’t relying too heavily on magic. As a hunter and warrior for her clan she knew from experience that knowledge of the healing arts could mean the difference between life and death. It was incredibly foolish to leave everything to magic; a mage wouldn't always be around after all. Her injures after Haven only proved to strengthen the sentiment.

“Magic can’t cure everything, and we shouldn’t rely on it.”

“Absolutely! I couldn’t agree with you more!” The Inquisitor said, nodding with agreement as Surgeon spoke.

“Science, Your Worship, is the way of the future.” Surgeon continued, beaming with pleasure. The Inquisitor! The Herald of Andraste herself! Approved! OF HER!

Nyxx watched as Iron Bull walked down the battlement stairs behind the tavern. He had likely been delayed by a tankard of ale, Nyxx mused. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Blackwall waiting just under the portcullis. Solas was still dallying…

“Good health isn’t magic, it’s diet, exercise, and a balance of the Humors.” Surgeon recited eager to impress the Herald with her knowledge.

Nyxx’s curiosity peaked, “Humors? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Could you explain it?”

The guys could wait a moment...

“Why certainly, Your Worship! You see the body is filled with four different humors. They are Sanguinous, Bilious, Phlegmatic, and Melancholic. When the humors are in balance the body is in perfect health. However, if the body has too much or too little of one humor it can cause an illness to occur.”

“Really? How do you go about fixing the-“ Nyxx paused, searching for an appropriate word. “ -‘imbalanced’ humor?”

“With a tonic or by bleeding, Your Worship. Bleeding allows for the excess humors to drain away. It may depend on whe-“

Solas strolled down the stairs, his gaze taking in the lower courtyard’s cleanup. He found himself automatically focusing on the Inquisitor’s voice.

 “Bl-Bleeding?” Nyxx’s tone jerked his attention to her face.

“Yes, by cutting. Of course, I employ the use of leeches myself.” Surgeon chirped boastfully. “I’m sure you would agree the use of leeches is a far more effective method in the- in the… Inquisitor?”

The color disappearing from Lavellan’s face had him quickening his pace.

“You suddenly seem a bit off-color, Your Worship.” The worry lacing her companion’s voice had him moving to Nyxx’s side.

“Oh- Oh no- I’m- I’m fine!” Nyxx said, as she slowly backed away.

 “Are you sure, Your Worship? I have an herbal tonic that is sure to do the trick.” Surgeon frowned worriedly. “Or I could use my leeches on you?” she added moving towards her retreating Herald.

“FENEDHIS YOU WILL!“ Nyxx snarled.

This brought Bull’s attention to the exchange. Noting Nyxx’s distress he started to approach, moving into position beside Solas. Absently Bull watched Solas critically scrutinizing the little elf as he listened to Nyxx talk.

 “I- I mean… No. Thank You. Truly- I’m fine! Picture of health!”

“It wouldn’t take but a moment, Your Worship.” To Nyxx’s horror Surgeon was still advancing.

“No- If- If you’ll excuse me. I just remembered an important matter… I- I needed to… _dooo_ som- Speak!” Nyxx held out her hands defensively, trying to politely shoo the other woman away.

 “… To Cullen! I mean- The Commander… I-” Nyxx continued walking backwards, babbling. “I need to speak to the Commander about… a matter… A _very important_ matter...” She didn’t turn around until she passed the stairs to the upper courtyard.

“Th- Thank you for- for… _fooorr_ \- YOUR TIME!” Nyxx called over her shoulder. Hastily, she moved towards the steps that led to the battlements.

Covertly hiding her distress, she ~~ran~~ walked to the Commander’s office, as her mind chanted the Commander’s name in ever growing degrees of horror. The forgotten men following close behind.

~*~

Cullen sputtered.

"Come now- In- Inqui- 'ahhem' -ssii- t- tor they are just l- lee- 'phsst' leeches. I- I can't just-"

Her commander stood there red faced choking on laughter and words of reason. She frowned darkly at the man.

A snort from behind, had her shifting her irate gaze to the other three (equally red faced) males at her back. A look of outraged betrayal twisted her features.

"They are Black. Wriggly. Blood Filled. Slimy. BLOBS OF SNOT!! THAT. DRINK. YOUR. BLOOD." She growled. "I don’t want them used on our soldiers!  Get. Them. Out. Of. My. Fucking. Castle!"

Cullen brought his hand to his temple and rubbed it down to stroke his mouth and chin trying to hide his mirth. After what Nyxx felt was an extremely exaggerated pause.

He spoke as carefully as he could, "and exactly. How do you... Suppose I- 'ahahaeemm' I am to do that? The most… Educated sur… Surgeons. Use them." Looking at the man you’d think he’d just ran five miles in a full suit of armor, not been trying to utter two small sentences without laughing in the Inquisitor’s face.

"I don't care what you have to do. Shit Cullen, make proclamations! Andraste’s Tits disavows the use of leeches! The Maker's Balls commands the removal of leeches from surgical practices! Fuck it! I'll even jump in here. As the Herald, I hear by ban leeches from The. Fucking. Inquisition. I don't care, Commander, pick one!"

-That was it- They couldn't- A man can only take so much- Their holy leader had broken them. 

Blackwall had to lean against the wall, his guffaws were so great, a hand clamped to his mouth.

While Cullen bent over, his hand resting on his desk, head bowed, shoulders bouncing. “B- Bl-Blobs of ssa- ssa- sssnot,” He said, as Nyxx watched his stupid multicolored fur shake.

"PHFSST!!! ‘Andraste's TT- TI- TITS D- Di- Disavows-‘ GRAHHAHAHA! ‘LE- LEECHES’! OHOHOH! OH NO!! OH NO BOSS! I THINK- AHAHAHA- I THINK I LOVE YOU!!" Bull bellowed, his horned head tossed back.

She stood there trying to cow them with her most effective death glares. Debating on telling them about the time she found herself covered in a hoard of leeches, after she’d been shoved into a pond by the older kids in the clan.

Even Solas' was laughing! His normally stern eyes crinkled, his nose scrunched, full lips laughing open mouthed. His brow buried in his hand...

“DREAD WOLF TAKE YOU! BUNCH OF ASSES!” Fuming Nyxx stalked to the door wrenching the thing open.

"I hope that nut job drains you dry! YOU THRICE BLIGHTED BASTARDS!" She added, slamming the door on her way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna, know the best part?  
> My hubby’s name is in fact Colin. After I screamed Cullen's name in horror, Hubs comes running, thinkin’ some terrible shit just went down…  
> Only to encounter his wife rage quitting on the Commander about Mother Fucking Leeches in her GD Inquisition...  
> As Varric would say, ‘It’s so ridiculous, you can’t make this shit up,’ (I may be paraphrasing here).  
> Seriously though, six plus month later the ass still won’t let it go… He even found a Leech shaped plush that says ‘Love Sucks’ for my Valentine.  
> Where the hell do you even find crap like that?


	15. Provoking Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull's such a charming lecher.  
> Blackwall... Well Blackwall, is 'Blackwall'.  
> Varric's just happy to be here.  
> Solas is not amused.
> 
> Nyxx might just stab them all...
> 
> Thank the Creators Sera was not present, otherwise this would end with a bloody massacre...

Crestwood was horrible. She’d thought the Follow Mire would always hold the top spot. But, after the Venatori camp, the Wyvern den, the undead, the roving demons, and the Rift...

Crestwood took the lead and kicked the Mire in the balls for spite...

The Rift had been in the  _middle_  of the  _fucking_  LAKE!

Oh and the _dragon_ ! How could she forget the _fucking_ Dragon!

Admittedly, it was getting better- After they cleared the area of the rifts and the undead.

Nyxx was slowly beginning to concede that maybe Crestwood wasn’t so bad- once the rain stopped. Oh and the corpses no longer shambled out of the lake... That was nice.

Yay for small comforts!

The fact that dead things staying dead had somehow become something she considered a _small_ comfort… She wasn’t going to dwell on how horribly messed up that was…

At least it seemed to reflect her efforts, while no matter what she did in the Mire the place still remained a shit hole.

But, whatever was going on with the Grey Wardens was worrying. Stroud was as forth coming as he could be, while Blackwall…

She’d thought if she brought him along perhaps he’d offer some insight. Or maybe say something- anything! Was that too much to ask for? He couldn’t perhaps say ‘yeah I noticed that too’ or ‘he’s not telling you everything’.

Nyxx sighed, Corypheus… missing Wardens… now this Calling crap and a Blood Magic ritual that could potentially prevent future Blights… Creators, what couldn’t possibly go wrong with such a plan?

But, if a blood magic ritual could provide a solution to the Blights, why didn’t ancient Tevinter do it during the first Blight? Surely, the blood necessary would fill Crestwood’s lake to the point it would flood the shore and the city above...

She respected the Order. How could she not? Five Blights had been ended thanks to their sacrifices…

For them to have such a weakness, a weakness easily manipulated by a creature that is a Darkspawn, worse a  _intelligent_ darkspawn, the implications were horrifying. She dragged a hand through her hair in agitation. It seemed the Breach and the demons were the least of her problems.

Supposing she did save the world and did kill 'this' Darkspawn Magister from Chantry legends, what then?  Never mind the fact that according to Hawke, Varric, and now Stroud the supposed ‘ _Legend_ ’ was immortal.

The old Chantry tale said there'd been seven Magisters. If one of them existed then- then there was a chance the world would see the Grey Wardens corrupted six more times. She shook her head; the Grey Wardens were a liability.

With that possibility looming, fixing the Breach would all be for naught…

A large hand pummeling her back jerked her from her thoughts. She leaned back as she stumbled forward, arms wide, trying hard not to land face down in the camp fire. Thankfully, the hand that had assaulted her grabbed hold of her collar and tugged her back to rights.

“Really, Bull?” Nyxx said, choking her heart back down.

"Sorry, but hey! I caught you!”

“If you hadn’t launched me towards the fire in the first place it wouldn’t have been necessary! But, hey! Good job! Wanna cookie?” She said, wrenching a surprised snort out of Varric.

Varric had decided to come along after the -‘Leeches’ incident-

After she’d stormed out of the Commander’s office and the men had recovered. They split up to search for her, Bull recruited Varric into the search-

And then proceeded to relate the incident to the dwarf. That, with the added bonus of teaming up with Hawke again, had been the incentive he needed to join them.

The Iron Bull lifted an eyebrow but otherwise ignored her statement, choosing to bring up his earlier suggestion.

“Come on Boss, the dragon is just over there!" Bull nodded, vaguely pointing his horns towards the old ruins the beast had claimed as its own.

Of course, it would be about the dragon again.

How many times had he brought up the damned thing now? She’d stopped counting at twenty-something. When Judith mentioned the beast, Nyxx wasn’t surprised to see him perk up.

But, it wasn’t till they drained the lake and the thing flew over head that he started acting like an obsessed sailor out to catch ‘The Big One’.

"No, Bull, I don’t feel like dodging fire balls and dragon maws... Creators! Haven’t you bashed the crap out of enough things?" Nyxx said.

"Grah! I’ll be back. I gotta go find somewhere to hang up this wet blanket..." Bull said, cracking his neck in agitation as he stretched his shoulders. The Qunari fairly vibrated with the need to hit something.

She didn’t feel like dealing with that crap… She was sweaty, dirty, bloody, and fucking tired- Fenedhis was she tired…

They’d already dealt with (what she felt) a ridiculously unnecessary amount of rain, rifts, and undead. While Bull practically tugged at her clothes, like a child begging for a treat, to take on said dragon, through most of it. So of course she would snap.

"Ahww, wha'sa matter?” Nyxx snarled stalking into her tent. “Did the ‘Big Bad Qunari Merc’ wet his bed again!" the tent flap gave an audible snap, punctuating her snarky comeback.

She didn’t catch the smirk of amused admiration that crossed the Ben Hassrath’s face, or the way his demeanor immediately calmed.

She also missed the look that passed between him and the softly chortling dwarf.

When she heard his all too pleased chuckle, she stuck her head back out to glare at him. “You’re trying to get a rise out of me on purpose!” She accused.

“Ha! I win Tiny! She figured it out before you could wear her down!” Nyxx eyed the two males, casting a glare that promised pain and outright homicidal retribution. She swept Blackwall and Solas into the stare suspecting their involvement. They had been oddly silent concerning Bull’s dragon nagging.

“You’ve been far to caught up in playing the sweet, pleasantly helpful, Herald. Or the firm but fair Inquisitor. You need to cool it before you break, Boss. Seriously, you’re gonna burn out if you don’t give yourself an outlet.” Bull said, his conversational tone taking on the hint of a lecture. “I figure getting you to vent will do you some good. _Especially_ , since you don’t seem to be popping the cork…” he added with a sly smirk.

She stared at him, slowly blinking her eyes several times, a dizzying array of emotions swirled thru her. She sidestepped embarrassment, rejected the urge to wail on principle, and grabbed hold of exasperation and incredulous.

“Chanting Dragon! Dragon! Dragon! Over and over again, _in my ear,_ while I’m neck deep in CRAP. That’s your solution to my ‘non-cork popping’ state of existence?” the little elf clarified. “Oh! Aaand fighting a dragon!”

“Yeah, it was that or hound you with my clever puns.” He omitted the fact he’d briefly considered finding some leeches. He wanted her to vent some stress... not break into a ranting mess-

…At least, not in front of the civilians or Inquisition soldiers, he amended…

'Maker's Balls' he quoted, chuckling to himself.

Yeah, her reaction had been far to entertaining. He  _definitely_ wanted to see that again...

“That makes no sense! We’ve been fighting and killing things for ~~days~~ months now! What makes you think killing that dragon is going to do the job?” Nyxx said, dubiously shaking her head.

The look and tone Bull used made it clear he felt the question ridiculous. “It’s a D.R.A.G.O.N. Boss...” he said, looking disappointed that he had to spell out the obvious.

She buried her brow in her hand. After a long pause her hand shot out, violently waving it in the beast’s general direction, “Then YOU can go get eaten by the giant fucking lizard. I’m going to wash up, eat, and then- I’m going to sleep. I’m done bashing things for the day.”

~*~*~

Bull watched as a freshly scrubbed Inquisitor grabbed a bowl of barley stew, studiously refusing to acknowledge them.

Nyxx sat between Solas and Blackwall, her attention all on her food.

Bull waited until she settled. “Hey…” he watched her flinch with expectation, eyes fixed on her bowl. “You're good with that sword.” He continued, turning his attention to Blackwall with a sly look.

The little elf shoveled a large bite of stew into her mouth, he chuckled to himself; she looked _so_ relieved.

“… Thanks?” Blackwall said, wary of where the Qunari was going with this statement. As he should be, thought the unorthodox Ben Hassrath.

“I see all that time on your own has given you a firm grip.” Bull quipped suggestively, leaving the Warden blushing and lost for words.

But, Bull caught the way Nyxx’s ears twitched and the slight pause of her chewing.

Hmm… He needed something a little more outrageous. He dropped the conversation with a long suffering sigh.

After allowing the silence to simmer a bit he tried again.

“You know one thing I miss about Par Vollen? Bananas.” He started conversationally to no one in particular as he tucked into his own meal. “They're bigger, less squishy, and bendier.” Bull added, making it sound like an oblivious after thought.

Everyone paused, turned their attention to him, holding their breath waiting for him to ‘hear’ what he said. Blackwall played right into the comment like Bull thought he would.

”You're talking about the fruit, right?” Blackwall deadpanned an uneasy look on his face. “Please, tell me you're talking about the fruit.” He begged when Bull remained silent.

That seemed to make her smile a little… She was a tough one their Inquisitor. But, the lecherous spy liked a challenge…

He had just the thing. He’d get a laugh out of her-

“Hey, Solas, you ever do your Fade thing and pretend you can fly?” Bull called, not at all surprised when she perked up. It was Solas and he was talking about the Fade. “Just flap your arms and zip around in there?” Her lips twitched. “Then maybe bang some hot Fade ladies?”

Nyxx chuckled, the image of the stoic elf frantically flapping his arms, idiotically, amusing.

Suddenly, she froze, mouth open, spoon half way to her lips, as Bull’s last question sank in. Only her wide eyed gaze shifted between the two men. Finally, eyes big saucers full of curiosity, she settled on Solas expectantly.

The elven mage could stand to be of some use, Bull thought, he sure wasn’t helping her relieve any stress.

“No. Such behavior attracts the attention of demons.” Solas said, suppressing a long suffering sigh.

Grah! The squirrely Fade Walker _would_ choose to be difficult…

“Aww. Demons shit up everything.” he grumbled. And so do you, Mage, he added silently.

A chuckle? Surely he could do better…

With questions about Solas and the Fade being asked, Blackwall quickly joined in. “Actually, Sera and I were just talking about you. We need you to settle a question for us.”

This time the pained sigh escaped him, “Sera's involved? So this question will be offensive.”

“Yes, probably. Sorry.” Blackwall said, a sheepish but unrepentant smile curling his lips. “You make friends with spirits in the Fade. So... um, are there any that are more than just friends? If you know what I mean.” He continued undaunted.

“Oh, for... really?!” The mage demanded, disbelief and outrage making him falter.

Bull huffed, where was that reaction to his ‘banging fade ladies’ question?

“Look, it's a natural thing to be curious about!” Blackwall calmly reasoned.

“For a twelve year old!” Solas

Bull watched as Nyxx’s lips slowly stretched into a big toothy grin.

“It's a simple yes or no question!” Blackwall

“Nothing about the Fade or spirits is simple, especially not that.”

Nyxx’s eyes glinted with unholy glee as she tried and failed to eat. She missed her spoon, mouthing the air like a fish, as she absently ate.

“Aha! So you do have experience in these matters!” Blackwall countered.

“I did not say that.” Solas defended, making Nyxx sputter.

“Don't panic. It'll be our little secret.” Blackwall said, giving Nyxx a conspiratorial wink. She clamped a hand over her mouth trying not to laugh with the food in her mouth.

“Ass.” Solas growled.

But, she failed… with a horribly awkward strangled snort, she ducked her head and tried not to die…

“Now who’s twelve?” Blackwall called calmly slapping the choking Inquisitor on the back.

Nyxx gasped for air tears in her eyes.

Bull rolled his eye; of course, he gets lectured about damn demons. While the Warden turns the Fade Walker into a twelve year old…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DA:I Banter seen from Madness' point of view...
> 
> Also, Banter not mine. That's Bioware's!  
> ...Brilliant B@stards...
> 
> Readers: Really Kaos? Way to point out the obvious.
> 
> ~Credit, where Credit is due~  
> The second -arguably the most important- motto and motivation of my life!


	16. Rampant Madness

“What’s the catch?” Iron Bull said, his voice little more than a suspicious growl. His eye narrowed as it slid from the horizon to the little elf.

Nyxx stood below him, her arms held to one side, palms flat as though presenting a great reward. Her back was turned to a wide gradually descending plain that stretched from the hill’s base.

“No, catch--” The elf replied dropping her arms, golden eyes widening in confusion as they returned his gaze.

“Bullshit, you never make anything this easy.”Bull said, waving his arm at the area behind her. “Especially, if I’ve been poking you.”

“Yeah, well you’ve been good these last few days. You’ve only mentioned dragons five times. Little Mercs who don’t bitch and whine get rewarded.” Nyxx shrugged a stern warning note to her tone. “So- No catch… Have at it, Bull.” She said, waving her hand.

“AGGRAAARR! This is going to be _good_!” Bull shouted dragging his axe from his back as he ran.

Blackwall and Varric surged after the wildly excited qunari.

“Charter mentioned the dragon to you a week ago.” Solas said, leaning close so their companions couldn’t hear.

“It’s been on my ‘to-do’ list… But, with his constant nagging-” Nyxx sighed ducking her head, “I kept vindictively putting it off.” The dragon in question let loose a bone grinding shriek.

“Not going to lie, I kinda hope the dragon roasts him--” Nyxx paused catching Solas’ frown. “Only a little!” She assured him as she picked up her pace.

“Just a quick sear-- a thin layer of char would do him some good!” She shouted over her shoulder.

Bull shouted as he charged the creature, suddenly the big Ben-Hassrath ducked avoiding a large ball of purple arcing lightening. The sphere of energy slammed into the ground behind him. The blast had barely missed him, the horns on his head crackled and flashed with an eerie purple-blue flicker.

“HAA! Looks like we won’t be dodging fire balls after all, aye Boss!” Bull said, bellowing with excitement.

Nyxx shook her head as she drew abreast of Varric. She raised her bow and notched an arrow as she put a few yards between her and the dwarf.

The men had been surprised that morning when Nyxx appeared holding her bow and a quiver full of arrows nestled between the two blades on her back. They had grown accustomed to her only using the bow when it was her turn to catch dinner.

The reason for the added weapon was made clear when Nyxx accompanied Varric and Bianca in their deadly shower of arrows.

Bull and Blackwall met the beast with a ground shaking cacophony of roars, shouts, clashing metal, and scrapping scales.

Solas taking up a spot between the two archers began doling barriers out to the two warriors dodging around in the dragon’s shadow. Wings flapping, the bulky creature hopped into the air, gliding a little as it tried to move back from the warriors attacking its sides.

Nyxx and Varric rained down arrow after arrow on the tough hide of the air borne beast. The scaled behemoth’s mouth opened wide as its throat and maw began to glow a dark purple hue. The blast roared from the dragon and streaked across the battle field intent on the dwarf.

Varric tucked Bianca close as he half lunged half rolled to the side.

The blast landed with an explosion of dirt. The smell of charred air, grass, and earth grew…

“Varric?!” Throat constricting on the acrid haze, Nyxx let loose more arrows as she tracked the beast with watery eyes.

“I’m fine!” the rogue coughed. Nimbly side stepping from the smoke he brought Bianca back into line with the circling dragon, before pumping his girlfriend’s little button. Aiming for the sweet spot where wing met shoulder.

Solas wheeled his staff about him with confident sweeps, unleashing a torrent of fire, ice, and spirit attacks.

Blackwall shouted taunts, trying to draw the monster’s attention away from the long range attackers.

Wings stuttering it dropped close to the ground, gliding low, its wings slashed at the air.

Taking advantage Bull pounced. In a risky move he tossed his grappling chain around the dragon’s front leg. Briefly the qunari was dragged bumpily along behind the beast.

“TAARSIDATH-AN HALSAAM!!” The Iron Bull shouted with wild abandon. Gripping the chain he jerked hard, leaning back he used his large body as a massive weight, throwing the beast’s balance off.

With a shout of disbelief Solas turned his attack spells into a barrier defense for the qunari warrior.

Blackwall raced forward, his own grappling chain caught around the base of the left wing. The Warden dropped low adding his mass to the impromptu anchor. The two heavily armored weights caused the dragon to bank into a tight curling roll.

The beast unprepared for such a maneuver crashed violently to the ground where Bull and Blackwall were quick to fall upon the beast with their blades once more.

The she dragon lashed her tall as lightening struck the ground at her attackers’ feet.

The two warriors faltered, dropping to their knees before the angry beast. The mage and two rogues stumbled backwards slightly blinded by the bright pillars of light.

Suddenly, the dragon fluttered her wings with ferocious slashing swipes. Solas, Varric, and Nyxx found themselves being drawn towards the angry mass of scales, claws, and gnashing teeth.

The Mage and Dwarf were able to maneuver themselves behind some ruins.

Nyxx was not so lucky, in desperation she twisted, dropping her bow; her hands and feet dug into the ground.

Blackwall and Bull recovered and turned their collected attention on a thick leg. They hacked and cleaved in tandem, trying to distract the creature from the little female that was being pulled to the vortex’s deadly center.

The dragon struggled, its mouth and throat undulating as it rolled the lightening within into a tight ball. Her attention focused on the elf steadily sliding towards her.

“No! Hold on, _Lethallan_!” Solas shouted, moving behind a wall that would shield him from the sucking winds and allow him to help. Placing a barrier around Nyxx and the two warriors, he proceeded to unleash a blast of spirit energy on the beast, hoping to disrupt the creature’s focus.

Suddenly, Nyxx decided to try something really insane. Twisting to face the beast once more, she lunged into the pulling air. Taking a page from Bull’s book she hurled her grappling hook around the Dragon’s horns, with a hard yank and the sucking air, Nyxx leapt forwards.

With her brain screaming that this was a terrible, terrible idea Nyxx tucked her feet close to her body and launched herself at the scaled back.

“Shit! She’s crazy! I swear, sometimes, she’s worse than Hawke!” Varric swore squeezing Bianca’s trigger.

“ _Fenedhis!_ ” Solas growled, silently saying a few more curses of his own, he desperately threw a second barrier around the suicidal projectile. He paused, flicking the sweat from his brow; gathering energy he twisted the staff to his back, holding it parallel to the ground he brought his left hand down in a sweeping strike.

Fade essence in the shape of a palm slammed into the dragon, crushing the wings into its back. The vortex stopped as the behemoth reeled back, stunned.

Nyxx slammed feet first into the back of the beast’s neck seconds later. She pulled a dagger from its sheath as her legs skittered over the scales between the damaged wings.

She gouged her blade into the tough hide stopping her from sliding down the dragon’s length.  It immediately started thrashing its head around, jolting her violently around on its back. The scales cut painfully into her cheek and jaw.

Bull drove his blade into the scaled hide below. "I don't know what you're doing up there, Boss, but whatever it is do it quick!"

Lunging for a horn she wrapped her legs and an arm around the curved length. Her reflection stared back in grim determination from the beast’s large eye. Nyxx watched as her mirror image slammed its dagger into the big glassy orb, the two dagger tips meeting as she sliced through the thick lens.

Nyxx held fast to the horn while the creature reared and screeched, bucked and thrashed. Dragging the blade from the eye socket, she shifted low and went to work hacking at the beast’s throat.

Bull and Blackwall swung and dodged.

After the second blow the dragon shook the elf from her horns. Nyxx rolled away from the raging claws. Crouched low with a slight limp to her steps she scrambled to put space between her and the beast.

The elven rogue wavered between falling on her ass and jumping back into the battle. With a screeching roar, crackling purple lighting snaked towards the ground once more. Though blind in one eye the dragon still had plenty of fight.

Another crazy thought wormed its way into her head. Nyxx narrowed her attention to the mark in her left hand. Gathering energy she swung her arm out, the Anchor’s green light sparked crackling arcs along her palm.

The Rift Mage had explained his theory concerning her new ability. She supposed this was as good a time as any, and since Solas was here he could see the Anchor’s new trick in action. Still, she’d only used it once before, and that had been in the ice cave below Haven.

“MOVE!” She screamed at the two warriors, when the Anchor glowed like the demonic lantern she remembered.

While the men scrambled away from the glowing elf. She unleashed the focused energy, punching a hole into the Fade at the she dragon’s feet. Bits and pieces of the creature warped and twisted as they were dragged into the swirling green vortex.

The left side of Nyxx’s face burned from where the scales had scraped her. Wincing she gulped at a potion and caught her breath. She was going to be black and blue from head to toe after this…

Suddenly, the dragon’s body went limp, falling to the ground. The rift closed. The beast stirred slightly as Bull closed in; raising his axe he brought a killing blow down on its neck with a sickening wet crack.

In the aftermath, Blackwall went to Nyxx’s side.

Solas leaned against his staff, a bit drained from the rapid fire succession of spells he’d had to cast. Stalking towards the mad little Inquisitor, he drained a lyrium potion. Stopping before her he cupped her chin, tilting her head to the side; he studied the slightly bleeding mark.

“What were you thinking?” The taller elf growled as he roughly passed a healing spell over her injury. She rolled her eyes up to him; his high handed approach had her lips curling off her teeth in annoyance.

Arching her eyebrow she moved to jerk her chin from his grip, “I was thinking ‘Hey! I really don’t want to be staring down this beast’s gullet like some bronto waiting to be slaughtered. I better do something quick!”

Exasperation crossed his face, his hand tightening slightly on her jaw. “You are lucky you did not launch yourself into said gullet. If you had used a little sense--”

“Hey, for your information, I used the chain to angle me towards her back! And look, here I am! Standing before you and not screaming from the beast’s belly. I thought you would be pleased!”

“I will be pleased when you no longer throw yourself on the backs of High Dragons, Inquisitor! I swear! It is as though you _enjoy_ telling my heart it is perfectly acceptable to stop!”

She lowered her eyes to his chest, and then lightly tapping the mage just above his heart. “Hey! You! Did’ja catch that? You’re _not_ allowed to stop.” Nyxx ordered, pointedly addressing his heart.

She lifted her gaze back to his, “All better? We good? I don’t suppose I could have my jaw back?"

He relinquished his hold, the corners of his lips twitching, despite his mouth pulling into a hard line. “Oh yes, it’s much better now. I am quite certain it will endeavor to heed your command…”

“So much for our stabilizing influence, Chuckles. I know her kind. If she’s anything like Hawke she’ll do it over and over and over again.” Varric called with a wary sigh. “All you can do is prepare for it. My suggestion, keep plenty of potions and healing spells ready.”


	17. Drinks With Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone might actually be paying attention-

Bull went searching for the Inquisitor. The woman had promised to have a drink with him once they returned to Skyhold.

That had been a week ago, he shook his head; her advisors were great at getting things done for the Inquisition, and their Inquisitor. But, they were oblivious to the little forest elf they had pushed into power.

He thought everything would be fine once she could act like herself again. But, then finding out about that First of hers- She’d kept that close. So close, Bull never would have guessed she’d lost anything more than a friend in the Conclave explosion…

The more he’d observed her the more concerned he became.

The way she’d spoke that night in the Fallow Mire, how she’d been weary to trust not just the Seeker, but humans in general-

Her situation in the beginning wasn’t much different than his had been in Seheron. Of course, she hadn’t spent years in a war torn urban area, where poison or a knife with her name on it could be hidden behind the back of a ‘friend’.

No instead she’d fallen out of the Fade, the home of demons. Personally, he preferred four more years in Seheron over what she had likely went through… Demons! He shook his horned head.

But, Bull knew, despite the demons, she’d not been prepared for the loss of her lover. Nor was she prepared for the people who saw her as an enemy to suddenly call her ‘friend’.

The way Bull saw it, the people she saw as companions had offered her conditional friendship. _‘Seal the Breach, don’t fuck-up, don’t miss-step and we will have your back… maybe- if we can.’_ If she had failed they would have killed her.

Then after intending to sacrifice herself for the Inquisition, they made her Inquisitor. The fact that Cassandra, Josephine, Cullen, and Red saw no problem with this decision just proved how oblivious they were to Nyxx’s situation. It was like they had some big Herald of Andraste, Maker’s Bride blind spot, when they looked at her.

Humans were impossible to understand sometimes. When he’d lost Vasaad and his troops, after being surrounded by people he could not trust- he’d turned himself in to the Re-educators, not gotten a damned promotion to lead the Ben-Hassrath.

Bull had no problem with her leadership; the real Nyxx was effective and efficient. She made tough choices and lived with the consequences. That was the way the Qun chose leaders. So, in his opinion, she was exactly what the Inquisition needed.

The conversation they’d had before-- before she’d dropped her act came to mind. He supposed that was when he suspected she was not the sweet, shy, and reluctant to act without the advisors’ advice, Herald of Andraste she was presenting herself to be…

Even then he had no doubt she wanted nothing to do with being the Inquisitor. But, when he’d commented on the Inquisition’s lack of a leader-- instead of offering Cassandra, Cullen, or Red as Inquisitor candidates, she’d stayed silent and simply nodded. She was likely tired of their indecisive decision making long before she’d shown her true nature.

If Nyxx had been the person she’d been making herself out to be- the ‘trusting elf’ would not have hesitated to mention why at least one if not all three of them would be the obvious choice.

She wasn’t with the Fade Walker. Entering the Great Hall, from the rotunda, he scanned the tables and the throne. Bull had not seen the Commander in his office or with the troops in the courtyard. That meant she was probably in another meeting.

When he ducked into the ambassador’s office and saw Josephine’s desk empty he knew he had his answer, she was in the War Room.

He went and spoke with Varric while he waited, watching for Red or Cullen to appear. When the conversation began to lull, he simply took to waiting in the Ambassador’s office.

He was debating on interrupting when he heard the large door grate open; he heard Josephine and Leliana’s hushed tones.

Their voices trailed when they saw him.

“You guys done with the Lady Inquisitor? She promised me a drink to celebrate killing that High Dragon we took down!” Bull said making sure his tone was boastful, jovial, and rowdy.

“Inquisitor Lavellan is still reading some reports. The meeting is done but the Commander is still with her, tying up some matters with troop movements that she needed to be appraised of.” Josephine replied with a pleasant smile.

Bull nodded and walked past them to the opened door at the end of the hall. He caught the speculative looks the two women shared. He laughed to himself, _sure, think whatever you want ladies. Your Herald is much too Dalish for that._

Though that would be amusing, a big horned brute showing her that kind of attention? She flirted alright, but anything more- Nyxx probably didn’t even realize such a thing was possible. Bull leaned against the wall just inside the war room with a chuckle.

Cullen stood behind the Inquisitor murmuring and pointing to the map. The little elf was bent over the war table, her elbows resting on the edge, a sheaf of reports in her left hand. Absently brushing a stray black strand behind a delicately pointed ear, she eyed the reports. Nodding, her gaze lazily shifted, scanning the map where the Commander pointed. Distractedly, she reached for a blackberry tart.

Seeing her like this he supposed he couldn’t blame the Advisors and Companions for seeing what they wanted.

But, he caught it. The tight way she held her jaw; the slight, almost angry, way her lips twitched when she spoke, despite her calm collected tone. And the tension- that ever present tension in her shoulders and back. He remembered how it felt, how it still felt- like they were being tightened by a trebuchet’s crank. Little near imperceptible clicks, constantly tightening a cord that never quite goes away, until you forget what it’s like to not have that pressure constricting your movements--

“Inquisitor! Come! Have that drink you promised me!” Bull said, interrupting Cullen. Someone needed to look out for the little forest elf…

~*~

Bull poured two large tankards with some strong smelling alcohol. “To killing a High Dragon like warriors of legend!” The Qunari cajoled.

She imagined she could almost _see_ vapors rising from the liquid surface.

“Oh- Oh Creators- What- What is that? It looks and smells like some of the poisons I use on my blades!” Nyxx said, with a distressed frown.

“Haha! Close!!  It’s called _Maraas-lok_.”

“What’s that mean? That sounds like Qunlat for poison— Wait- _Maraas-lok_?— _Lok_ —Bull! Don’t you call your bang powder _Gaat-LOK?”_

“Funny- It _means_ DRINK!”

Nyxx looked at the horned giant then the tankard. Finally, with a whimper she took a gulp; when she moved to pull the cup away Bull tilted it up just a little bit more ‘encouraging’ her to continue.

Her mouth and throat ceased to exist. She choked and sputtered as her tongue turned to ash. Spasming in its death throes, her throat closed and constricted in a vengeful attempt to take her with it.

“I know, right? Comparing it to Gaat-lok probably isn’t too far off the mark.” Bull chuckled.

“Ah, but that little gurgle right before it spat _lighting_? The smell and sound of my horns crackling from that first blast-”

“PHWOAR! No way! Your horns were crackling?!” Sera said, tankard in hand she flopped into the chair beside Nyxx.

“Yeah—RAAH! THAT WAS GREAT!” he smiled shaking his head. “And that roar. What I wouldn’t give to roar like that!” He paused, draining his cup with grunt.

“The way it lifted me while I held that chain! Then shook the ground when it crashed!! …Taarsidath-an Halsaam.” Bull seductively hummed the Qunlat phrase, tapping her half full mug.

Nyxx held her breath and drank. _‘Just finish, Fenedis! And it will all be over,’_ she thought, when it looked like her companion was going to ‘encourage’ her again.

Shrugging his ‘help’ away she turned, quickly gulping the rest in sad desperation. More sputtering, more stinging tears. She grimaced at the bottom of her empty cup, and said a silent prayer of forgiveness to her body.

“You know Qunari hold Dragons sacred?” Bull started. “Well, as much as we hold anything sacred.” He amended with a laugh, grabbing her mug. A look of dread crossed Nyxx’s face. He filled the tankard once more then pushed it in front of her expectantly.

“Th- that thing- the uh—the phrase… The Qunlat!? You shouted that as the dragon dragged you around–What does it mean?” Nyxx stalled rotating the tankard in her hands. She flicked her eyes from the tankard to the Qunari.

“Oh, ha! Taarsidath-an Halsaam?” Bull paused; his eye moved from her to the liquor filled cup, a knowing smirk curled his lips.

“Oh come on, Lady Bits! Drink! He isn’t going to tell us till you do!” Sera said patting her arm, a wicked grin on her face.

“Have you even tried this stuff?” Nyxx growled.

“I was left behind while you all went and killed a dragon! Which is shite by the way- So no- I haven’t.” Sera shot back.

Nyxx frowned petulantly then took a few gulps. She choked only a little, but her body still felt betrayed that she was continuing to drink the vile liquor. ‘Dragon Piss’ her brain supplied with angry conviction.

“Yeah, the second cup’s easier. Most of the nerves in your throat are dead after the first one.” Bull nodded.

“So- So the- the words? The ones you—yelled?” Nyxx wheezed.

“Hm? Oh- Closest translation would be, _‘I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect’_.

Nyxx sputtered in disbelief, “You shouted that while it was bumpily dragging your arse around the battle field, like a ragdoll?”

“Ahha! Yeah! Yeah, I did! Damn! I told you that Dragon was going to be good!” Bull bellowed. “You can’t tell me you didn’t love riding that dragon, Boss!”

“Phstt! Nah! You? Rode the dragon?!” Sera shouted, spitting out her drink as she smacked Nyxx across the back! “I didn’t know the elfy- elfy forest princess had it in her! You’re crazier than me!”

“She did! She launched herself on to its neck, and then took its eye out with a dagger!” Bull bragged.

Sera wrapped her arm around the other elf, “Awww, I miss all the fun stuff!” She paused, settling her chin on Nyxx’s shoulder. “Next time you go dragon hunting you better take me, Nixie!” She ordered tapping the Inquisitor on the cheek.

She didn’t notice the way her words and touch jolted Nyxx. Bull caught the flinch, the jerky nod, and the way she quickly stretched her lips into a smile.

More importantly, as the Inquisitor recovered she willingly gulped down the rest of her _Maraas-lok_ …

“Sure, no problem, you can ride the next one.” The dark haired elf tentatively rested her head against that of her blonde haired companion’s.

Suddenly, “ _Hmm_ , wow Nixie, you smell really good,” Sera sighed contentedly. There it was again, a quick flicker of something...

~*~

After the fifth tankard she’d lost the ability to count.

At some point Nyxx had sneakily switched her tankard with Sera’s. It hadn’t lasted long, Sera had taken a large gulp then cursed and choked and raged at the joke. That had been a while ago, the tavern was now empty but for the three of them and Cabot.

The blonde rogue was passed out across the end of their table. Sera was sprawled on her back softly snoring, her lips half parted, a little dribble of drool trailed from the corner of her mouth and down her jaw.

“Hey, Boss?” Bull called pulling Nyxx’s attention to him as he picked Sera up.

“Hmmm.”

“Its closing time-”

“O- Okaaaayyy” Nyxx said moving to stand, only to stumble back into her chair, arms reeling.

“Hmm, sit tight. I’ll go throw Sera in her bed, and then I’ll come back for you.”

“Y- you go- gooing t- to kaarraay mee’ah liikke tha-?” she asked, gesturing to Sera’s limp body draped over his arms.

Nyxx paused frowning at the words her inebriated mouth tripped over. This was why she rarely drank to excess…

“Looks like I might have to…” Bull said climbing the stairs.

She hated not being able to properly voice her sarcasm and jokes. Personally, she felt she was fucking brilliant, so much so that she felt certain Dorian would be proud. But, when she was this drunk she tended to get tongue tied, unless she concentrated _really_ hard.

When Bull returned Nyxx took a deep breath, then forced her mouth and tongue to at least try. “IF- You-Arr- Gonnaa- Kk-ka’ray… -CARRY- Me-  I- Wanna- Rai’Da- On- U’Or- Ssh’OL’Ders.” Smiling, she silently preened, _‘Ha! Mmaarisshh-LOK could kiss her Dalish arse!’_

He tugged her from her chair, “Yeah, ok. Up we go, Boss.” Bull laughed, she looked so damned pleased.

She’d only been joking- But, when he got her outside the tavern she watched as the horned giant turned his back to her.

Nyxx stood there wavering on her feet as he crouched down in front of her and waited for her to climb on. Without missing a beat she happily clamored up his back.

“RReeaalliee, Bull?” Nyxx asked, even as she tugged at a horn and slipped a leg over one shoulder.

With help from Bull, she slipped her legs over his thick shoulders, a thigh on each side bracketing his neck. Once in place she hugged her arms around his head, one hand absently covering his eye as she bounced in place like a child.

Standing, he slid her hand to one of his horns, “Hold on.” He called gripping her knees.

“OKaayy.” His little passenger chirped.

Suddenly, Nyxx shouted, “ON-War’Da, My- No’Bal- Stt’Eea’De! … T’Ew- ViC’TOR’Ee!” and tugged at his horns.

“Nice one, Boss.”

 _‘Yeah, that was pretty good.'_ She smiled mentally patting herself on the back, _'See fucking brilliant!’_

“TOO DRAGONS!!” Her ride called walking to the stairs.

“…You- An’- U’Or- Da’Ra’G’OwN’Ss! T’Ew…”Nyxx paused thinking. Finally, “Th’He- Eye’ROw’N- BULL!” she shouted enjoying- whatever this was...

“GRAHAHAHA! AND HIS ASS-KICKING INQUISITOR!!” Bull bellowed moving his large hands to wrap around her ankles.

“AN— ‘ME! TH’HE—AH’AR’SS—KI’KK’EN’GAH— IN’KWEE’SAA’TAOR!!!” Nyxx screamed, punching her hand in the air.

Bull knew getting her drunk was only a temporary solution. She couldn’t go to Re-educators like he had. Even they had only done so much for him. There were moments where he wasn’t sure they’d helped at all. No, he’d have to ease into getting her to open up, this was just the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I had like 4 different people tell me the drunk speech was easy to read/figure out but if I need to add a 'Drunk Lavellan Translation Guide' I will.

**Author's Note:**

> I own Nothing, but Nyxx...
> 
> Also:  
> As proud as I am of my Chapters' content, sometimes I blow my mind with just how clever my Chapter Titles are... It really brightens my day.  
> \- ConfessionsofaFanficAuthor


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